


Beacon for Tomorrow

by LetsRandom



Series: Discovering Faith Once More [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7260877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsRandom/pseuds/LetsRandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is moving forward and onto his next adventure. While Beacon Hills is not the Hellmouth, it does have surprises of its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Teen Wolf, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and other Superman titles.
> 
> Although this is a sequel to Discovering Faith Once More, it is not its spiritual successor. The writing style is not shorts-based and this story is the next chapter for Clark. For me, this is an optional sequel rather than the direct continuation of the previous story. I know for some this will be a disappointment, but this is the story I've set myself to writing.
> 
> That being said, Faith is an important part of Clark's history and she still has her role to play.
> 
> This is Clark from Smallville also drawing from other Superman materials in the Teen Wolf universe. There are elements of BtVS which are associated with Clark's past. The Teen Wolf timeline has been shifted so that they are in their senior year for this rendition of Season 3.  
> 

For his first day at a new school, Clark was feeling alright. It was a bit grating to go through a second senior year, but having your previous school blow up could make a mess out of your paperwork. Rather than pursuing college with a sketchy academic record, his situation made for an excellent cover story.

His new school was nice and the administration was surprisingly helpful. Then again, Clark reasoned that any administration would be amazing in comparison to Principal Snyder. The teen’s good humour quickly took a turn for the worse. As atrocious as the man had been in life, no one deserved to be eaten by a giant snake demon.

He was brought back to the present when the locker next to him closed shut. Turning, he met the warm brown eyes of a very attractive brunette.

“I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?” she asked with a small tilt of her head.

Clark gave a self-depreciating smile, “Is it that obvious?”

“Beacon Hills isn’t exactly a large town,” she replied, “It’s not hard to notice the new kid on the block.”

After a brief pause she continued, “That was me a while back.”

He offered his hand, “My name’s Clark and it’s nice to meet you.”

The brunette laughed and offered her hand in return, “I can’t say that many people here share your good manners Clark. I’m Allison.”

“Nice to meet you,” Clark replied with a soft smile.

Before their pleasant conversation could continue, a reasonably well-built teen with short brown hair walked up to them. Clark could see the newcomer’s hackles were raised, both figuratively and literally. Clark assumed he was meeting the territorial and overprotective boyfriend. He recognized the type.

Allison turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and offered a soft, “Hey... you,” before quieting abruptly.

Clark flinched when the other teen _growled_ at him.

“Who’s this?” the newcomer asked.

“Hi, I’m Clark,” Clark introduced himself. He proceeded to offer his hand, “Clark Kent…”

His voice trailed off before he shifted awkwardly. His hand stayed extended for a few more seconds before he reluctantly lowered it. The glaring was getting more than a little unnerving and it didn’t look like Allison was about to step in anytime soon.

“Scott,” the other teen replied several moments later through his clenched teeth.

“Nice to meet you Scott?” Clark replied, struggling to keep his uncertainty out of his voice.

Scott obviously picked up on it.

Allison finally stepped in to diffuse the tension.

“It was nice to meet you Clark, but Scott and I actually need to talk in private for a bit,” she said diplomatically.

She offered a small smile which Clark returned before she grabbed Scott’s arm. She marched him away from the lockers. It was more than a little creepy the way Scott kept his eyes trained on Clark all the way down the hall. He only broke the gaze when Allison pulled him around the corner.

Clark focused his hearing to eavesdrop despite knowing it was an invasion of privacy. It was petty of him, but he wanted to hear Allison chew out her boyfriend. He’d been rude and unnecessarily territorial. Besides, Clark rarely abused his powers and he had to take advantage of the perks some time.

“What’s your problem?” Allison asked. Her tone was hushed, “I know there's a lot we need to talk about, but that was insanely rude.”

“Not here,” Scott replied, with a quiet intensity, “Now’s not a good time to talk.”

“Why? What’s going on?” she was still surprisingly calm.

There was some slight movement from Scott before Allison let out a soft, “Oh.”

Clark focused his vision to look through the wall. Something was going on and he felt a growing sense of unease building in the pit of his stomach. Unfortunately, he’d already missed whatever physical cue Scott had given Allison.

She regained her composure and asked in a whisper, “Should we be worried?”

Clark had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

“Maybe.”

He banged his head gently against the locker. At least on the Hellmouth his secret had lasted longer than a day.

 

.

 

His first class was AP biology. Having already done his classes once, Clark saw absolutely no reason he should hold back his ability. Nobody would question his scholastic success if it was his second run at his courses. Clark got ready for class by settling near the back as other students made their way into the room.

“Why hello,” something about that tone of voice snagged Clark’s attention.

A provocative strawberry blonde stood near the door and unabashedly eyed him up and down. Clark barely suppressed his wince. He knew what her appraisal meant and he wasn't in a place to deal with that sort of attention.

Worse still, Allison was also watching him from beside the redhead. The brunette’s face was carefully guarded, a stark contrast to her friend’s leer.

Clark didn't have more than a moment to prepare when the redhead made her way over and took the seat beside him, leaving Allison to sit reluctantly the next seat over. They both laid their books out on the chemistry bench.

“My name’s Lydia,” the redhead offered, giving Clark a flirtatious smile.

Allison seemed to recognize her friend’s intention and tried to signal her. The small abortive hand movements she was making let Clark know she was signalling Lydia to stop. It was obvious however, that Lydia was ignoring her friend on purpose in order to focus her attention on him.

“I’m Clark,” he smiled, pretending to be completely oblivious.

“Pleasure,” Lydia replied, again giving him another onceover, “Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from Smallville, but I just came from Sunnydale actually,” he replied, ignoring Allison’s sharp look.

“Smallville, really?” Lydia laughed incredulously. Even Allison smiled at that.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Clark pretended to act chagrined, “Make fun of the corn-fed kid from Kansas.”

“Well whatever they fed you, it worked,” the Lydia commented approvingly. Her intentions were about as subtle as a jackhammer, “A lot better than the freshmen. Right Allison?”

The brunette nodded but also made one last subtle hand gesture to Lydia. Again, she was ignored.

“Uh sure…” Clark found himself blushing at the redhead’s bluntness.

After all of his experience with Faith, Clark really expected to be better at this.

“So why did you move here?” Allison finally asked. It was clear Lydia wasn't going to let them keep their distance.

Eager for a distraction, Clark replied without thinking, “My last high school blew up and I kind of wanted credible final grades for college.”

The other two stared at him. Allison spoke first, “Did you say your last high school blew up?”

“As in exploded?” Lydia added unnecessarily for clarification.

“Well… yeah,” Clark replied

He cursed himself silently. This was not the first impression he wanted to give. Being the new kid from a demolished high school was not the reputation he needed. People would end up pitying him or he’d attract unnecessary attention which was the opposite of what he wanted. Allison and Scott were already suspicious as it was.

“So you’re repeating your senior year?” Lydia clarified raising an eyebrow at Clark.

“Yes. I’m taking more AP courses this time around though,” he responded.

She’d made the connection surprisingly quickly. Clark made a mental note that she was likely smarter than she first appeared.

“What happened?” asked Allison.

With the can of worms already opened, Clark opted for the established cover story, “A gas explosion during graduation.”

“Doesn’t that mean you’ve already graduated with your set of marks?” Lydia questioned.

He shook his head, “We had graduation before final marks were done. Most of our final exams kind of went with the school.”

“Well that sucks,” Lydia pouted for his benefit. She offered him a smile, “But you wouldn’t be here otherwise right?”

Well… someone needed to back up Faith and Wesley anyway. Not that Lydia and Allison needed to know that, “Uh. Pretty much,” he replied.

Allison narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Why Beacon Hills?”

“My guardian was recommended it by a friend,” Clark replied.

Thankfully, it appeared both ladies were tactful enough not to question his family life the moment he’d used the word ‘guardian’. While his mom hadn’t been happy with his decision to help in Beacon Hills, she’d respected his reasoning.

“So how do you like it so far? Do you like what you’ve seen?” Lydia asked suggestively.

Thankfully, Clark was prepared for her most recent advance, “Beacon Hills has some great forests. The reserve is really nice. I actually kind of missed being able to go out and explore nature. While it definitely isn’t Smallville, Sunnydale didn’t have anything natural worth exploring.”

Lydia looked slightly put out by his oblivious response while Allison angled her head in interest. By successfully dodging one of the girl’s advances, Clark had managed to pique the interest of the one already suspicious of him. _Awesome._

“So find anything interesting in the forest?” Allison asked. Her expression was guarded despite her innocent question.

“Well, I found some nice trails, but nothing really stood out to me. I just kind of wandered around and took in the sights. It’s just nice to have an escape you know? A place that’s quiet, where I can just be by myself,” Clark explained.

He paid rapt attention to Allison throughout his explanation. Her heart had sped up for some reason, but he wasn’t sure why.

Lydia sighed and attempted to pull the conversation back to something more interesting, “What do you do for fun Clark?”

“I like to read,” Clark replied, “I actually really miss the library from Sunnydale.

“That’s it? No sports? I mean look at you,” Lydia exclaimed in surprise.

Allison shook her head in silent laughter. It seemed that she couldn’t completely control herself while Lydia threw herself at Clark. Clark was glad that the brunette was finally relaxing a little. Having already slipped up earlier, he refused to give out any potentially sensitive information.

“No, not recently at least. I did play football for a little bit, but in the end it wasn’t for me,” he replied with a smile.

“Why not? What else would you be doing?” Lydia demanded. She looked almost offended.

Clark laughed at her enthusiasm, “Sorry, but like I said, I prefer to read. Both fiction and nonfiction actually. Though I guess astronomy is another hobby of mine.”

“I didn’t expect that from you,” Allison commented.

“And why’s that?” Clark asked.

“Like Lydia said. I mean look at you,” the brunette looked flustered for the first time, “How else would you get so… you?”

“Smooth Allison,” Lydia smirked.

She seemed surprisingly okay with Clark paying some attention to her friend.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, there’s something to be said for working on a farm I guess. To be honest, I’m not really sure. Just lucky with genetics I guess.”

“Mhm. Humble. Makes you interesting,” the redhead commented. Turning to her friend, she added, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Very interesting,” Allison agreed, meeting Clark’s eyes.

The brunette hadn’t needed much time to recover from her embarrassment.

Clark had hoped her relaxing was a sign that he was in the clear. Unfortunately for him, her sharp gaze disabused him of that notion. The critical look in her eyes was unnerving and reminded him a little too much of both Faith and Buffy preparing to fight. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle it if she turned out too similar in personality to either of them.

“Apparently he’s shy too,’ Allison smirked, noticing his discomfort.

Clark was more comfortable letting both the girls think that was the reason for his unease.

“Well then, let’s make this easy. Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Lydia asked brazenly.

Clark’s mood went from apprehensive to somber.

“We’re kind of giving each other space for now. We care for each other, but unfortunate things happened,” he eventually replied.

He awkwardly brought up his hand to rub the back of his neck. The motion helped soothe him somewhat.

“Sorry to hear that,” Allison replied with genuine sympathy.

Something flickered across Lydia’s face, but she kept going, “Well, what a coincidence. Allison and her ex are giving each other some space and my ex just moved to London.”

Clark was startled by her announcement. He wasn’t sure to be insulted or impressed by Lydia’s candour.

“That's uh, good to know,” he replied.

“Just thought you should know,” she said with a smirk, “Just in case you need help getting to know Beacon Hills.”

“I appreciate the offer,” responded Clark.

He had absolutely no plans on following through with her offer. She was coming on a little too strong for him and Allison was still giving him the occasional dissecting look. Clark had no plans on being dissected intellectually, physically, or metaphorically.

As their teacher approached the front, the room quieted down almost immediately. Apparently Mr. Harris had quite the fearsome reputation. Their class progressed with little conversation and Clark struggled to remain focused as he already knew all the material.

Allison and Lydia seemed to pay attention though, for which Clark thankful. He was packed up and ready to go the moment the bell rang. Unsurprisingly, so was Lydia. She was at Clark’s side before he’d barely taken his first step.

“What class do you have next?” she asked.

“I have English with Ms. Blake,” he replied.

“What a coincidence. Allison and I have English next too,” Lydia smiled prettily, “We can walk you there so you don't get lost.”

 _That's just great._ Clark didn't let it show on his face and offered Lydia a nod instead.

“I could always use the help,” he said politely.

Lydia turned to Allison, “You coming?”

“I don't see why not,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Clark swore Lydia was taking the long way around to their next class. There was no way walking in an ‘S’ pattern was the most efficient route. He was also pretty sure there’d been some backtracking involved as they passed the same water fountain for the third time.

The redhead engaged him in inquisitive small talk and laughed a little more than appropriate considering his words. While he liked to think he could be funny, Clark knew he was no comedian. Allison mostly stayed out of the conversation and only commented every so often. She did watch Clark with wary eyes the whole time though and it had been really unnerving.

“Here we are,” Lydia finally declared.

In the doorway to the classroom, she frowned. There were only three open seats and they were spread out throughout the room. There was a seat in front of Scott, a seat by the window, and a seat beside a young male who waved at Lydia.

“I guess I'll sit by Stiles,” Lydia told the two reluctantly. With a brief goodbye, she made her way the open seat.

Clark glanced at Allison before offering, “I can sit by the window if you want to be close to Scott.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. She resolutely made her way to the seat in front of Scott. Clark took the opportunity to walk over to the window seat and relax into the chair. He was glad to finally have a bit of time and space to himself. Almost immediately after he sat down, everyone else in the room jumped towards their phones.

Clark listened to Ms. Blake’s short speech about cell phone use and turned his off. In an unusual move she’d used a mass text to prove her point. It unnerved Clark to know a teacher had access to almost every students’ cellphone number, but at least she didn’t have his.

She was a good orator though. Clark soon found himself lost in her words throughout her lecture. She was thought provoking and something about her voice called to a deeper part of him. He’d initially resolved to keep an eye out on Allison and Scott, but he found himself distracted from his goal instead.

He was able to return his attention to the two when they began their quiet work for the period. The room was mostly silent and Clark wouldn’t need to focus his hearing too much to pick up anything important to say. He watched them with his peripheral vision until he saw Allison pass a note backwards to Scott. Focusing his vision while Scott unfolded the note, Clark read it as well. Allison wanted to talk with Scott about something important. _Not good._

Thankfully, before Scott could pass his reply back to Allison, he was called to the front of the room. The principal had come in and mentioned some sort of family emergency. Scott hurried out of the room with Ms. Bake hot on his heels. Clark was happy to note Allison’s eyes had followed the two out the door, sparing him her personal scrutiny.

The brunette only relaxed once Ms. Blake came back inside the room and took her seat at the front. Allison briefly looked around the room and Clark panicked when she met his eyes. Abruptly turning his head to the side, he pretended to be staring out the window. He hoped in vain that she hadn't picked up on it.

Clark noticed something very peculiar as he looked outside. A large flock of dark birds, possibly crows, was flying low to the ground towards the school. He was intrigued at first by their atypical behaviour and kept watching as the flock grew larger and nearer. When they crossed the school boundary and onto its grounds, a sense of foreboding settled over him.

Before the first crow hit the window, Clark grabbed the two nearest students and moved them away from window.

“Everyone get away from the windows!” he shouted.

Students around the room looked at him startled. Only when the first bird smashed into the window, killing itself, did everyone start moving. By the time the rest of the flock began impacting the glass pane, the class was settled near the far side of the room.

Clark realized the windows were not going to hold after the first barrage of birds. Readying himself, he picked up a nearby heavy textbook and stood in front of his classmates. He was prepared for the moment the glass broke.

He swung the textbook at the nearest bird and sent it flying back out the window. Clark winced when he heard its neck snap, but knew getting squeamish wouldn't help his classmates. He began aggressively batting other birds out the window or into the ground, hoping to defend the people behind him. Some of his classmates screamed in panic while others took action to defend themselves.

“Get down!” Ms. Blake screamed as students huddled near the far wall or under desks.

Clark began swinging his weapon faster, taking down several birds at a time. Unfortunately, he was knocking back only a small portion of the flock. The birds out of arm's reach began dive bombing people in the room.

“Get to the hall!” he commanded, still swatting birds, “Keep your head covered!”

Students who weren’t frozen made a desperate dash to the exit. Allison began organizing a panicked evacuation of the class as everyone tried to keep themselves protected. Clark briefly watched Lydia get escorted by her friend towards the door. The birds were still coming and Clark had no intention stopping.

He ignored their attempts to peck and scratch at him and continued his work with brutal efficiency. Wielding the textbook like a misshapen baseball bat, he kept nailing home runs. With the crows’ heads being the baseballs.

Thankfully, most of the bodies followed their heads back out the window.

“Clark!” Allison called out from the classroom door.

The room was empty except for the two of them and she stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. He could only imagine how he looked covered in feathers, blood, and other organic material. Running to the door, Clark swatted any bird that got too close. He only hoped maintaining his secret hadn't led to any excessive injuries. With that thought, he took a small pleasure in waylaying a last few birds before pulling Allison into the hallway.

Clark slammed the door shut before turning around. Most of the class looked terrified and hysterical, but a few were looking at him in awe. Lydia’s friend came up and slapped him on the back. He draped his arm over Clark’s shoulder and brought him further into the hall.

“You were fricking awesome in there! You turned that textbook into a deadly weapon. Plus you got us all out in one piece. Well more or less, but what’s a few scratches?” the brown-haired teen rambled on excitedly, “I'm Stiles. And who might _you_ be mighty textbook warrior?”

“That would be Mr. Kent,” Ms. Blake cut in with a small smile. She seemed shaken, but was slowly regaining her composure.

“While I don't necessarily approve of students undermining my authority… I think this time I can make an exception. Thank you Mr. Kent,” she praised.

Clark shrugged his shoulders as Ms. Blake walked away, “It was no big deal.”

“Like we said, humble,” Lydia chimed in from nearby.

She made her way over on shaky feet. The redhead only looked slightly worse for wear though she was obviously rattled. The adrenaline rush was leaving her and she was still in shock. Stiles ran over to support her before she collapsed. The look she gave him was an interesting mix of thankfulness and chagrin.

“Like we said, right Allison?” Lydia asked her friend.

Clark looked at Allison who was still standing near the door. Her hair was messy with a lone feather sticking out of it like an absurd fashion accessory. It added a bit of comedy to her otherwise haggard appearance.  Thankfully, she’d escaped with only a few minor cuts beyond her torn up clothes. Clark was happy to notice the rest of the class only had minor injuries as well.

“Yeah,” Allison replied. She regarded Clark carefully, “He didn't get a single scratch either.”

Clark felt like she was jumping to conclusions. He knew he was a mess. There was a good amount of bird blood congealing onto his clothes and exposed skin. There was also the other soft tissue splattered all over his body. Without special vision, there was absolutely no way anyone could tell he hadn't been hurt. Allison was clearly just letting her speculation get the better of her.

“I’m pretty sure not all that blood came from the birds,” Stiles arched an expressive eyebrow.

“You didn't really seem to notice when the birds attacked you,” Allison said staring at Clark suspiciously.

It was an easy accusation to shrug off, “I was kind of worried with everything going on. I’ll probably be feeling it tomorrow when the adrenaline has worn off.”

“Hmm,” Allison didn't comment out loud on his reply.

“Everyone is getting checked over by the paramedics. Your parents have been called and they should be on their way,” Ms. Blake said as she walked towards their small group.

She gave them all a humourless smile, “You will all be free to go home once you've been screened for injuries. The school understands that this has been quite the traumatic experience.”

“No kidding,” Lydia snorted.

“I hope to see you all in class tomorrow. Take it easy tonight,” Ms. Blake gave them a soft smile before walking off to the next group of students.

“Are you all ok though?” Clark asked with a little concern.

The trio checked each other out visually and nodded in confirmation of each other's well being. They then turned to Clark.

“How about you?” Stiles asked curiously, “ You were the one taking them on.”

“Only some,” Clark reminded him.

The teen was not discouraged, “Dude you fought them with a fricking textbook. A textbook, man. Wait—that’s my textbook!”

His excitement quickly turned to dismay.

“Mr. Harris is just going to use this against me too,” he groaned.

“He does hate you,” Allison laughed.

“Part of it is your fault,” Lydia added.

“He just hates me. So I don't like him, then that makes him hate me more, so I hate him more… It’s not my fault he started this vicious cycle,” Stiles protested in comic outrage.

“I could talk to him for you. Explain what exactly happened to your textbook,” Clark offered.

Stiles shook his head, “It wouldn't help. It just might put you on his hit list. Thanks, but it's not a good idea.”

His opinion was clearly biased against the teacher so Clark turned to the two girls. They both seemed to agree with Stiles though so Clark decided to leave it be. It irked him that the other teen would get in trouble for his actions; however, he didn't want to make a bad situation even worse.

“I don't know about you guys, but I think I’m going to head home and get cleaned up. I really need a shower and maybe burn these clothes,” Clark said. He began to make his way down the hall.

“Ms. Blake said we’re supposed to wait for our parents,” Stiles called out.

Clark called back, “Not a minor and I’ll be giving my guardian a call on the way home anyways. Don't worry about it. I'll see you guys tomorrow.”

Nothing was going to keep him from getting home. Not even the grey matter sliding down his sock.

He really wanted that shower.

 

.

 

“Watcher,” Chris Argent greeted as he opened the door. Allison curiously waited in the hall. Her father had received a call earlier and had been tense ever since. She’d been told to expect important guests and to stay home tonight.

“Argent,” the man in the door replied.

His British accent told Allison his country of origin. She observed the man as he walked into their home. He was reasonably handsome and was younger than her father by a decade or two. Based on his glasses and the clothes he was wearing, she thought he looked like British accountant. She had no idea why this sort of man would be in contact with her father.

Motioning into the sitting room, Chris led the visitor further into their home. Allison followed curiously and took a seat beside her father.

“Tea?” Chris offered.

“Good lord yes. It’s been impossible to find a good cup of tea since I left my colleague in Sunnydale,” the Watcher replied enthused.

Something about Sunnydale rang familiar in Allison’s mind. It had been mentioned in passing, but she couldn’t really remember anything about it. Her father on the other hand clearly recognized the name and tensed beside her.

“I admit I was surprised to hear you were coming to town,” Chris admitted slowly, “Traditionally the Council sticks to the supernatural hotspots.”

“And the Argents settling in an area is a sign all is normal?” the man replied with a raised eyebrow.

Allison felt something tighten in her chest. She hadn’t heard of the Council before, but based on what she was hearing and her father’s reaction, they were bad news. She just wasn’t sure if it was for her family or the pack. Her disturbed look did not go unnoticed by their guest.

“And this young lady is?” the bespectacled man asked.

“This is my daughter, Allison,” her father introduced. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Surprisingly, their visitor’s stern demeanour melted a little, “A pleasure to meet you Allison. My name’s Wesley Wyndham-Price.”

Not at all surprised by his pompous name, Allison was surprised by how his smile helped her relax. Her father felt it and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The tension in the room dropped a little.

Chris said, “Wyndam-Price is a pretty well-respected name within the Council if I recall.”

“If this were last year, I would have been the first rub that in your face,” Wesley laughed, “However, months in Sunnydale have taught me that origin and status are not the most important in our fight. Family names can mean very little.”

Allison bristled slightly at his comment. While she might have understood where he was coming from, the Argents were a proud family with a rich history. You couldn't just casually dismiss their lineage.

“That is a very… unusual stance for a Watcher,” her father replied cautiously.

“Well, Watchers can be a little… stiff shall we say,” Wesley grinned sardonically.

Allison resisted the urge to laugh. The man was the perfect stereotypical English gentlemen in her mind. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d seen who was stiffer. Her father seemed to think along similar lines and offered a small smirk.

“The thought never crossed my mind,” he lied.

“Yes well, I thought I owed you and your family the courtesy of informing you of my arrival in Beacon Hills. The incident at the school was a nasty business,” Wesley flushed, aware he was being teased. He adjusted his glasses, “In addition to peculiar animal behaviour, is it safe to assume the presence of a werewolf or two in this town?”

Allison consciously stopped herself from visibly tensing. In reality, her heart was thundering in her ears. Scott could be in danger and she needed to warn him somehow. The look she recognized on her father’s face said he was about to lie.

“We’ve retired.”

Well maybe not lie exactly, just misdirect.

“I may still be somewhat inexperienced in the field Mr. Argent, but I am most definitely not an idiot,” Wesley snapped, clearly offended.

Chris kept his face blank, “I never said you were.”

“No, but your implication is—hold on. Who do you mean by we? I was under the impression that your wife had passed this past year,” the Watcher said.

Both Allison and her father couldn't help but wince. Wesley caught the movement and calmed himself.

“Apologies, but that was highly insensitive of me. I can be a pillock at times,” he apologized.

“Sometimes?” shot Allison. She didn’t even know what the word meant, but her mother was still a sensitive subject.

“Allison,” chided her father. He turned to Wesley, “You must understand that our family's past dealings with the Council haven't always worked out for the best. As for retirement, I was speaking of Allison and me.”

Startled, Wesley looked at Allison. His gaze sharpened as he took in all of her. He paid special attention to her eyes before staring at her hands. His scrutiny was uncomfortable for Allison, but it was quickly over.

Wesley sighed, “She’s so young.”

Allison felt more than just mildly insulted.

“You are one to talk,” Chris sniped, “At least Allison was given a choice. She chose to become a hunter, a great hunter. Retired now, I guess. Either way, she had a choice. Unlike some others.”

Her father's comments helped soothe Allison’s pride somewhat. She had no idea what her father meant to imply to Wesley however.

Their guest rubbed his forehead, “I must apologize once again. I meant no disrespect to you or Allison. You are correct, someone in my position has no right to judge you. Although I must say there is something to be said for destiny.”

Chris stared at Wesley with narrowed eyes. After a moment he nodded and relaxed again. Allison’s father actually looked slightly bewildered.

“You are the weirdest Watcher I’ve met. Not that I’ve met many,” Chris commented.

Allison could pick up some humour in her father's tone and took it as a positive sign. Maybe she’d been worrying over nothing.

“You could say I’ve recently developed a more… liberal view of the world when compared to most of my contemporaries,” Wesley admitted.

“Most?” the Chris asked curiously.

“Some friends in Sunnydale showed me I still have a lot to learn. There is something to be said for practical experience over prescribed training,” the Watcher replied.

A notion Allison’s father clearly shared. He took a leap of faith. Albeit, with some reluctance.

“There may be a few werewolves in town,” the retired hunter admitted. He was careful not to give an exact number.

Wesley nodded, “It is as I suspected. I assume they're not a threat and you're simply monitoring the situation? Are they a pack?”

“They're friendly,” Allison blurted out.

Her father gave her a disapproving look for her outburst.

“Of course. It had to be teenage love,” Wesley rolled his eyes.

“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Chris commented amused. He didn't seem as upset with Allison after seeing the Watcher’s reaction.

“Let's just say it is not the first time I’ve seen a young lady fall for someone she shouldn't,” the Watcher replied slyly. He chuckled at a private joke, “It seems some things are universal. Like unruly teenagers.”

“Tell me about it,” Chris sighed.

Allison slapped her father's shoulder playfully. They’d already discussed her association with some of the local pack at great length. While her father didn't completely agree with it, in the end he understood. He’d developed a grudging respect for some of wolves and was willing to let Allison associate with them. Reluctantly of course.

“We and the pack have reached a tentative arrangement,” Chris explained, still withholding specific details.

“They're friends,” Allison interjected.

Giving his daughter a look, Chris countered, “Some are.”

“Some are,” she conceded.

“I assume some of them go to school with you?” Wesley asked curiously, leaning forward.

There was no malice in his words. In fact, he seemed quite excited.

Looking at her father, Allison was hoping for some directions. He nodded slowly which she took as a signal to answer Wesley’s question.

“Yes they do,” she replied cautiously.

“Interesting…” Wesley sat back in contemplation, “Actually, I wanted to introduce you both to someone. May I?”

He took out his cellphone while looking at Chris.

“You’re already here. Might as well,” the elder Argent acquiesced.

Wesley hit a number on speed dial and waited for his call to connect. Allison sent a look at her dad. Although the last bit of conversation had been much more relaxed, her father's face had returned to a careful mask. They weren't out of the woods yet.

“Yes? It's me. They're ready to meet you.”

Wesley quickly hung up. He stood up and looked to Chris, “If we could get the door, he'll be outside in just a moment.”

At Chris’ puzzled look, Wesley explained, “I had him wait in the lobby. I was hoping our introduction would go well.”

Allison’s father still looked confused, but walked their guest to the door nonetheless. Allison heard the door open and she strained her ears to hear their conversation. There were brief introductions and a moment later, she heard them coming back. She settled into her seat in preparation for a second round of introductions.

“You have a lovely apartment Mr. Argent,” a familiar voice said.

“Thank you,” her father replied. Confusion was still colouring his voice.

Allison was startled when Clark walked into the living room.

“You!” she exclaimed, standing up abruptly.

“Me?” Clark was surprised by her reaction.

“Is everything okay here?” Chris asked questioningly from the doorway. Allison saw his hand drifting towards the hallway table where a hidden gun was located. It was loaded with wolfsbane bullets just in case.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Allison.

Clark looked bewildered, “I was invited?”

“I take it you two know each other?” Wesley asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. We’re in some of the same classes,” Clark replied. He blushed slightly before continuing, “Actually her and Lydia kind of… hit on me.”

Only Wesley recognized his misdirection for what it was.

“That was only Lydia,” Allison protested a little flustered.

Her father relaxed. He motioned to the seats, “Why don't we all have a seat and sort through this.”

Clark took care to sit as far as physically possible from Allison. Neither Chris or Wesley commented if they’d noticed as they took their own seats. The senior Argent did however take some time to examine Clark. His gaze was critical and assessing.

“Honestly, I thought you’d be a girl,” Chris admitted, “You were a surprise.”

Allison looked at her father. Clark’s gender was the source of his confusion? She wasn't even sure how to make use of that information.

Clark choked out, “Excuse me?”

“I can see why you would make that assumption,” Wesley laughed.

“Where’s your charge now?” Chris asked.

“She's currently in LA at the moment. She will be joining us in a little while,” the Watcher explained.

Nobody missed the slight shadows that flickered across Clark’s expression.

“So what's your story Clark?” Allison father's asked. He was more guarded after Allison’s dramatic reaction. The more casual rapport he’d developed with Wesley was gone.

“Uh..my high school blew up and Wesley offered to put me up for the year?” Clark supplied with a wince. He didn’t sound very convincing.

“That’s all?” Argent senior asked skeptically.

“Well I'm originally from Smallville, Mr. Argent, sir,” the teen replied.

Chris turned his daughter. She gave her father an almost imperceptible nod. So far Clark’s story had been consistent with what he said in school. At least Allison knew why Sunnydale had sounded so familiar.

Still, Clark was clearly holding something back. There was no way he would be associated with someone who knew of the Argents true history without being involved in the supernatural himself.

“He's also Stiles’ ‘textbook warrior’ from the bird attack,” Allison added.

Clark groaned, “Not that stupid name again.”

“If I remember correctly, that makes you the hero of the week,” Chris commented, “That was quite brave of you.”

“So, what problem do you have with Clark, Allison? I have it on good authority he can be positively charming. Especially with the ladies,” Wesley cut in with a smirk. He pushed his glasses up to hide the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Clark put his face into his hands. “Damnit Wesley, you're being embarrassing. I’m not charming.”

“I imagine you don't mean to be. Doesn't make it less true though,” Chris found the teen’s response amusing.

Allison reluctantly agreed when recalled her previous experiences with the other teen. She struggled to respond to the Watcher's question without raising any suspicion. After a prolonged silence, Wesley quirked an eyebrow and Clark looked up at her. They were both waiting for her answer.

She turned to her father and he gave her a small nod. If he trusted them, Allison would defer to his judgement. She decided to be subtle just in case the information changed her father’s mind.

“Scott didn't like him,” Allison said finally.

Her father tensed. _Message received._

Wesley snorted, “Petty teen drama? I expected more from the Argent heir.”

“Wesley. You're doing it again.” Clark said as he watched both Argents take offense from the Watcher’s statement.

“And that would be?” the Watcher asked.

“Putting your foot in your mouth. You're kind of coming off like a prick,” the teen replied.

Chris snorted and Allison withheld a small giggle. _Damn_. He really was charming in his own way. All the tension in the air had been dispelled with just a few simple words. He was definitely trouble.

“While I may not exactly like the boy, I’ve come to appreciate his instincts,” Chris explained as a peace offering.

Clark nodded seriously, “It’s because he’s a werewolf right?”

Allison froze as worry clawed at her heart. This was a potential disaster in the making. Turning to her father, she saw that he’d remained calm.

“That does make things clearer,” commented Wesley thoughtfully, “I'm surprised I missed that.”

“I’m not exactly surprised that one of you reached that conclusion, but I assumed it would be _you,_ Watcher,” Chris admitted. He narrowed his gaze, “I wouldn't mind knowing how you came to your conclusion though Clark.”

Clark gave Wesley a look. Clearly, Allison wasn't the only one taking cues from their older companion. The Watcher gave him an encouraging nod.

“Go ahead Clark.”

“Well, before we came, Wesley and I talked about the likelihood of us finding werewolves in Beacon Hills. With the Hale’s presence it seemed probable. I also did some research into the Argent family when Wesley mentioned your family’s profession,” he explained, “Based on your trust in Scott’s ‘instincts’, I just assumed the most logical conclusion.”

“Hmm,” Chris hummed thoughtfully.

Allison wasn't sure if they could take Clark at his word, but looking at Wesley she couldn't see any tells. Clark had a serious look on his face and the Watcher appeared completely relaxed. Neither of them looked ready to cause any trouble.

“How very perceptive of you Clark,” Chris let out.

“Can you tell me what sort of weapon Allison uses Clark?” Wesley asked lightly. He wore a smug expression.

The teen turned his green eyes onto the brunette. His eyes lingered on Allison’s hands much like Wesley’s did. His observation only took a fraction of the time though.

“The compound bow is probably her preferred weapon, though she can use a composite bow and knife comfortably as well,” Clark said after a second of consideration.

Allison just stared as Wesley chuckled.

“You led me to believe the Council didn’t care about my daughter,” Chris accused Wesley, frowning at the idea.

“Actually her calluses told me she normally uses a bow and not a gun,” Clark shrugged his shoulders, “I also assumed that hunters as good as the Argents would use the best bows available. It wouldn't make sense to use anything else. The knife fighting was just a guess to her preferred close combat style.”

“Logical and perceptive,” Chris commented. He turned to Wesley, “He’s training to become a Watcher? I didn't realize the Council was interested in Americans.”

“I'm actually just learning enough to keep my friends safe. I’m not trying to become a Watcher,” Clark denied with a small shake of his head.

Allison briefly wondered why his short-ish brown hair bounced more than flopped considering its length. She mentally berated herself. Now was not the time to be distracted by odd hair. She needed to focus.

“We still haven't talked about why Scott thinks you’re different. Or how you handled yourself so well with the birds,” the brunette pointed out. They’d managed to divert the conversation long enough.

“I imagine both questions can be explained by his experiences on the Hellmouth,” Wesley dismissed casually.

“Hellmouth?” Allison questioned unsure.

“Hellmouths are special kind of supernatural hotspot. Hunts were more dangerous near them so our family was happy to let the Council manage them,” her father explained, “Werewolves don’t act the same near one and never mind the other things.”

“Other things?” Allison asked questioningly.

“Some of them are in the bestiary, but we’re missing some species,” Chris replied.

Clark groaned, “You have no idea.”

The brunette gave him a questioning look, but it was Wesley that explained.

“If all you have is a single book, your knowledge of all the possible supernatural threats must be severely limited,” the Watcher said authoritatively.

Allison and her father definitely did not appreciate Wesley’s tone of superiority or his words.

“Just because our scope may not be as wide as your Council, we get the job done. Nobody knows werewolves better than we do.” Chris replied frostily.

Allison felt the same way. The British man seemed to quickly realize he’d made a mistake, but the damage had been done.

“I apologize Mr. Argent, but I did not mean to insult you or your family in any way,” Wesley apologized.

“But you did. Several times now. We’ve done our little meet and greet,” the elder Argent stood up, “I think it's time you both left.”

The Watcher looked absolutely shocked at the change in atmosphere. He spluttered to find the words, but Clark put a hand on his shoulder. Wesley quieted and stood up. He nodded sharply at both Argents and made his way to the front door. Clark moved to follow.

He paused at the hallway, “It was nice to meet you Mr. Argent. I also apologize for Wesley.”

Allison’s father nodded reluctantly, “I appreciate that, but I think it's time you caught up with your Watcher. Don't worry about the door on your way out.”

The teen nodded before walking out of sight. Chris looked out the window and waited to make sure both Clark and Wesley got into their car. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he left the room to lock the front door.

Allison wasn’t sure what to think. Clark and Wesley had been a shock and there was clearly a history between her family and this Council. Her father returned looking very grim.

“Dad?” she asked questioningly.

“The Council being here is not good news. Keep an eye on that Clark boy and be careful,” he instructed.

“What is the Council?” Allison asked, hoping for an explanation.

“Bad news. We might need to come out of retirement.”

 

.

 

Clark sat quietly enjoying the sounds of the forest around him. The rustling of the leaves and the sounds of the animals close to him were a nice change of pace. Having learned to control his hearing for a while now, he was happy to have found another ‘Fortress of Solitude’. There was something special about the tree stump, but Clark couldn't really tell what.

He’d found some evidence of the local werewolf pack on the reserve, but he figured it wasn't any of his business. As long as they were careful around others, Clark could care less. He respected the need for privacy.

Clark eventually picked up on the gentle treads of a human walking through the forest. They paused suddenly a reasonable distance away before ducking behind a tree. The soft steps and light breathing led Clark to believe it was one of the local pack.

“I know you're there. You might as well come out now,” Clark said, opening his eyes. He turned around to look at his observer.

Allison stepped out from behind a tree and walked a little closer. Clark winced. _At least I didn't yell out ‘I can hear you’._

The other teen approached slowly holding her bow out in front of her. She stopped a fair distance away and drew back an arrow.

“What are you?” Allison demanded.

Clark may have been open to sharing under certain circumstances, but being held at arrow-point was not one of them.

“I’m just a regular guy,” he replied eventually.

Surprised, Clark barely avoided the arrow before it would have deflected off his leg. He was ready for the second one, the third one, and every arrow after that. Allison would have to stop her attacks eventually as she got tired or ran out of arrows. Clark would be happy with either.

A fair distance away, Allison was clearly getting more frustrated with every shot. The fact none of the arrows were aimed for his center of mass told Clark that she wasn’t aiming to kill. Until she took a more deadly approach, there was no reason for him to escalate. He was patient and confident that she’d give up eventually.

Allison abruptly stopped shooting, but kept an arrow notched. She gave Clark a small smirk like she’d won their little confrontation.

“A regular guy huh?”

Clark withheld his groan, “I’m pretty sure if anyone was being shot at, they’d dodge too.”

“I’ve shot werewolves before and they’re pretty quick,” she wasn’t buying it, “You are something else.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to predict shots when they’re all aimed at my legs,” Clark replied.

Allison laughed softly, “Of course you noticed. But are you really going to keep pretending you're a regular human?”

Her stern demeanour from before was gone. She was grinning at him openly. Clark reluctantly admitted that if the situation was reversed he could’ve found the situation a little funny. Listening to her heart beat, Clark was surprised to hear it was still relatively calm. All the arrows she’d fire at him hadn’t taxed her at all.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Clark shrugged his shoulders, “I’m pretty sure you’re imagining things.”

“Maybe,” Allison conceded, her eyes dancing.

Her relaxed mood was infectious and Clark eventually offered her a small smile in return. Before he could even think, her arms snapped back up in a full-draw and she fired an arrow straight at his chest. Clark instinctively caught the arrow several centimeters in front of him.

“Like I said, something else entirely,” Allison said. Her eyes were hard again. The warm and open young lady was gone and in her place stood the hardened hunter.

“You could’ve killed me!” Clark exclaimed in shock.

“I knew you were going to be fine,” she replied.

“How could you have known that?” Clark demanded, “Just because I demonstrate a little above average speed? If I hadn’t caught this arrow I could have been bleeding out right now. Or worse, just dead.”

“I was sure,” Allison said. Clark barely caught the hesitation in her voice.

“You can’t just go around shooting people because they _might_ be a threat,” he admonished.

Allison’s eyes barely wavered, “If it means protecting the people important to me, I’ll take the shot.”

“I get protecting people you care about, but there is still a right way to do things!” Clark shot back, “Shooting potential threats on a whim? Have you even tried to give people the benefit of the doubt?”

“Yes. People I cared about got hurt,” Allison replied in a clipped tone.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing,” Clark shot back. The events in Sunnydale had only strengthened his beliefs in that regard. He still felt the sting of betrayal all these months later.

“Are you serious?” the hunter asked him incredulously. She lowered her bow in surprise.

Clark’s gaze never left hers, “Compassion is one the most important traits of humanity.”

Allison kept staring at him like he’d suddenly grown a second head. She was certainly struggling to understand him. Clark would have really liked to know what she was thinking.

With a sigh, Allison reached into her pocket. Clark tensed and focused his vision on her hand. He just as suddenly looked away. While seeing her phone, he’d also saw a flash of black lace during the focusing of his vision. That had definitely not been his intention and he promised himself to practice using his x-ray vision more when given the opportunity.

Allison noticed his weird behaviour and kept her eyes on him while she raised her phone to her ear.

“Yeah it’s me.”

“No there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s clean.”

Clark didn’t listen in; he’d already invaded her privacy and wasn’t about to do it again not even five seconds later. She hung up soon after.

“What’s the problem now?” Allison demanded. She shouldered her bow, “Is that better?”

Clark coughed uncomfortably and looked back at her. He tried to avoid direct eye contact.

“Yeah.”

“And you won’t look at me because?” the hunter asked arching an eyebrow.

Clark met her eyes. He found himself distracted by the small things he’d never noticed before; the freckles on her nose, the length of her eyelashes, and the colour of her eyes. They were a soft chocolate — _no, mud_ — thought Clark trying to reassert some self-control. It would be easier to think if she had mud coloured eyes. They were a lighter shade than Faith’s…

Allison coughed awkwardly. She’d also been staring. They both looked away from each other briefly before turning back to each other.

“So, what are you?” Allison asked Clark curiously, “Are you some kind of male Slayer?”

He coughed, surprised by her question, “So your dad did tell you about the Council then.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

She was annoyingly persistent.

“I actually… dated one for a while,” Clark finally admitted.

He stared at the trees around him. The forest really was quite nice. The Beacon Hills Reserve was understandably a great location for a werewolf pack to set up.

“Based on what my father said, I didn't think that was possible,” the hunter said carefully.

She believed him and Clark wouldn't be surprised if his eyes had been the reason.

“Faith was something special. We met and one thing just led to another,” he explained. He managed to stop himself from choking up.

“What happened?” Allison asked kindly.

“Evil mayor with a plan to turn into a giant snake demon and eat everything,” Clark replied glibly, “Things happened and now we're on a break.”

His tone didn't match his expression and Allison picked up on it.

“I get it. Crazy things happen. Scott and I are the same way,” she offered in consolation.

“Yeah…” Clark trailed off to examine the nearby foliage once again.

“Dating the Slayer doesn’t give you supernatural speed,” Allison commented. Her tone was less confrontational than before.

“I don't have supernatural speed,” Clark replied. _Technically true_.

“You know I don't have to shoot you to get you to talk,” Allison smirked. She took her bow and quiver off her back, gently laying them against a nearby tree.

Clark groaned. Despite the temporary peace between them, she was still pushing. Her persistence was admirable, but also bloody annoying. So was picking up British speech from Wesley.

Allison rushed him and tried to sweep his legs out from under him. Moving a leg forward, Clark intercepted her swing, hoping to reduce the impact for her. She scowled and spun in retaliation, sending a vicious elbow to his head. He leaned his head back and let her strike go on by. The ground shifted under her feet as Allison continued her attack.

She wasn't as good as a slayer or some vampires, but she was still quite skilled. If Clark didn't have his experiences from Sunnydale and his speed, she would definitely have landed some solid blows. Admittedly they’d be more painful for her than him.

He was actively trying to avoid that outcome. He intercepted the arcs of some of her attacks to reduce the force behind them. Other attacks he dodged.

Her breathing grew heavier and her exertion began to show. Her hair was clumping together and sweat ran down her forehead. She also wasn't attacking as quickly. Not that her motions weren't sharp, she was simply taking more time between strikes or combinations. Her scowl was gone and in its place was a grin.

At some point their engagement had turned into a really aggressive spar. She was clearly enjoying the challenge. To be honest, so was Clark. It had been a long time since he sparred with someone so skilled, even if she was only human. Protecting his attacker from harm, if needed, was an important part of his own developing fighting style. Allison seemed tough enough to take a little punishment if he failed.

After several more minutes, Clark could see she was exhausted. It was time to end it. In a burst of motion, he grabbed both of her wrists and locked her arms at her sides.

“It's over,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back, “It’s not over until I say it is.”

Clark was not expecting a vicious head-butt to the face. It hadn't hurt at all, but he still let go of her in surprise. On the other hand, Allison was not as lucky.

“What the hell is your head made of?” she demanded raising both of her hands to her head. She stumbled around slightly.

Clark stepped forward worriedly to meet her. Head injuries were notoriously tricky.

“Are you ok?”

Allison surprised him for a second time. When he got close enough, she hooked a leg behind his and pushed forward with all her weight. Caught off guard, Clark fell back with brunette on top of him. They landed and she let out a small ‘oumph’.

“Now it's over,” she grinned widely. Her face was flushed as she panted for breath. Clark saw her forehead was also developing a bit of a lump.

He brushed some of her disheveled hair out of her face. He gently touched her forehead and she winced slightly.

“You're hurt,” Clark said gently, “Sorry.”

Allison wasn’t sorry at all, “I knocked your supernatural ass to the ground.”

_Not this again._

“I may have… access to some special abilities,” Clark eventually gave up.

“Finally. Took you long enough,” Allison sat up and wiped some of the sweat off her brow, “That was one of the best workouts I’ve had in a while.”

Clark couldn't help but notice he was being straddled by a very attractive young woman. Her disheveled hair and sweaty appearance didn’t help. Even the bump on her forehead couldn't detract from her appeal. He couldn't help but remember the flash of lace from earlier and he felt his body react. _Not now!_

 _“_ You might want to get up now,” Clark said in panic.

“What, can't take being beaten by a—oh,” Allison felt something poke at her leg. She sprang up immediately. Her fading flush returned in full force, “I, uh, sorry.”

Clark’s entire face was hot. He rolled over and buried his face in his hands, “This is one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.”

“I'm… flattered?” Allison offered. She didn't really seem sure.

“That doesn't really help,” Clark mumbled as he ground his hands and face into the dirt. His face burned behind his hands.

“Ok, this is stupid. Just get up,” Allison commanded.

“Alright,” Clark got up reluctantly.

Allison was obviously fighting the urge to laugh as she took in his dirt covered appearance. If she noticed his bulge, it seemed she had the good grace to ignore it. When Clark finally looked up, she gasped. She took a few steps back, her hand instinctively reaching towards her boot knife.

“What's wrong?” he asked in confusion.

The brunette seemed to struggle with what to say. Initially scared, her knit brows displayed her confusion.

She finally croaked out, “Your eyes are glowing.”

Clark was even more sheepish than before. Shuffling awkwardly, he took a few deep breaths while closing his eyes. When he looked back up, his eyes were back to their regular sparkling green.

Allison relaxed a little, but was still wary.

“What was that? It looked kind of like an alpha’s eyes.”

“I'm not a werewolf,” Clark’s blush hadn’t faded, “My eyes glow red when I'm really angry. Or sometimes when I'm very… uh…”

He made vague hand motions, but Allison got the gist of it.

“I get it.”

There was a very awkward and long pause.

“So definitely not a werewolf?”

Clark shook his head vigorously.

“I can work with that,” Allison conceded. She added, “You know, I'm still going to find out what you are.”

"I never expected anything else," Clark replied with a grin.


	2. Meeting the Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was about time that Clark met the wolves running around Beacon Hills...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Superman, Teen Wolf, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
> 
> I've tried to keep it so anyone who isn't familiar with the Teen Wolf universe can reasonably follow along. A big shout out to nowhereman (tthfanfic) for the help on this chapter. Wouldn't be the same without it.

* * *

 

“Are you sure Scott knows what this symbol even means?” Lydia asked as they drove to the party Scott and Stiles were attending.

  
Allison glanced at her passenger, “No, but if anyone does, Scott is our best guess. Plus he knows stuff about the other pack.”  
  
“Don't remind me. Things just keep getting weirder in this town,” the strawberry blonde shuddered, “It started with werewolves, but now we have a mystery murder, crazy animals, and werewolf wars. It’s all Scott’s fault, he started it.”  
  
Allison knew Lydia didn't mean what she said about Scott. It was just her way of coping with their crazy situation. The bruise mark spanning both their arms was a little disturbing and they needed to get to the bottom of it. It might hold a clue to where Isaac had been tortured. They might even be able to rescue the other werewolves.  
  
“Let's talk about less depressing things,” Lydia said, “Are you ready for some double dates yet?”  
  
When she received a dirty look, Lydia raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You’ve got to know why Scott and Stiles are at that party. They're probably striking out with some girls right now.”  
  
Allison tried not to think about it, “Scott said he'd be waiting for us outside.”  
  
“Doesn't mean he wasn't doing anything earlier,” replied her best friend.  
  
The brunette continued to drive, but remained silent.  
  
Lydia sighed, “Okay, what do you think of the new guy? A complete beefcake, am I right?”  
  
“I'm pretty sure he's still hung up on Faith,” the brunette replied without thinking.  
  
Her friend pounced on that detail, “How do you know his ex’s name? Did you spend some extra time with him that I don't know about?”  
  
“I kind of ran into him in the forest,” Allison admitted. Lydia didn't need to know the nitty gritty details.  
  
“Well I want details. What happened?” demanded Lydia.  
  
_Not happening._ Allison signaled a right turn before turning the wheel. When they pulled onto the next street she replied.  
  
“I just saw him sitting there so I went up to him and we talked,” she said.  
  
“He was just sitting there?” Lydia asked. She made a face, “That's kind of weird.”  
  
“I think he likes the peace and quiet. He looked pretty relaxed,” Allison offered.  
  
“And absolutely nothing happened?” the strawberry blonde asked.  
  
She narrowed her eyes when the brunette kept her eyes firmly on the road. She noticed a slight blush on her friend’s cheeks.  
  
“Something did happen!” Lydia exclaimed. “Good for you.”  
  
Allison almost jerked the wheel in surprise.  
  
“No, nothing happened,” she denied.  
  
“Uh huh,” her friend replied clearly disbelieving.  
  
“I’m serious. Nothing happened,” the brunette insisted.  
  
“Mhmm,” Lydia hummed in response.  
  
The car slowed as they pulled up to the house party. Allison parked the car and turned off the ignition. They both took off their seat belts and unlocked the doors.  
  
“Seriously nothing happened,” Allison insisted yet again.  
  
Lydia gave her a knowing smirk, “I expect all the details later.”  
  
_Great._  
  
They made their way up to the house. Scott was waiting outside for them on the lawn. He pretty much skipped over to them in eagerness. He looked a little like a puppy. A sexy, muscular puppy.  
  
“Hey,” he greeted shyly.  
  
“Hi,” Allison replied, quieter than in the car.  
  
Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed her friend's arm. She rolled up both their sleeves and shoved their forearms together. With a deliberately aggressive gesture, she thrust the symbol into Scott’s face.  
  
“Does this look familiar?” she demanded.  
  
Scott studied the bruises. He narrowed his eyes in concentration. His nostrils flared and he quickly looked up at Allison. _Uh oh._  
  
“Why is his smell all over you?” he demanded.  
  
Lydia startled. She definitely hadn't been expecting that.  
  
“I already told Stiles. He checks out,” Allison replied trying to remain calm.  
  
“That doesn't explain why his scent is all over you,” Scott pointed out. He did not look happy.  
  
“I may have started a fight with him,” the brunette admitted.  
  
Scott suddenly looked concerned. Lydia watched their interaction with interest and a raised brow.  
  
“Everything ok? He didn't hurt you, did he?” the werewolf asked.  
  
“I can take care of myself,” Allison reminded him.  
  
“I know, but he's not exactly a small guy…” Scott replied.  
  
“Don't worry, I won,” the brunette reassured him. _Kind of._  
  
“I thought maybe he'd put up more of a fight. I mean did you see arms? You didn’t even get to have fun with him.” Lydia commented in mock sadness.  
  
Scott gave her massive stinkeye. He clearly didn't like the idea of Allison being close to Clark regardless of the circumstances.  
  
“It was actually pretty close,” the hunter admitted. _He was holding back though._  
  
Lydia perked up. She did have a vague idea of how good Allison was at fighting. The redhead was probably evaluating Clark’s potential including the new information she’d just gleamed. His scowl made it obvious Scott didn't feel the same way.  
  
“He could still be dangerous,” the werewolf growled out, “His scent is weird. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”  
  
“I know that already. I’ve talked to Stiles remember? I called him after I made sure Clark wasn't a threat,” Allison replied.  
  
“He still smells off,” Scott countered. He was not letting it go.  
  
“All this talk of smelling is kind of disturbing,” Lydia interjected.  
  
Allison sighed. She gave Scott a soft look, “You trust me right?”  
  
“Always,” he replied reflexively. He reluctantly relaxed his stance and expression.  
  
“I still don't really know about him,” the werewolf said quietly.  
  
“Trust me. Clark is not a threat.”  
  
Allison reached up and gently cupped Scott’s cheek. She missed their closeness. He grabbed her hand and met her gaze longingly. With a slow nod, he let both her hand and the topic drop. He was choosing to trust her.  
  
The moment was ruined when Lydia mimed gagging in Allison’s peripheral vision. The hunter shot her friend a dirty look. The redhead shrugged her shoulders unrepentant.  
  
“What next?” Lydia asked.  
  
“We need to show the mark to Derek,” Scott replied unusually serious.  
  
Allison nodded in agreement despite her reservations, “Get in the car. We’ll go find him.”  
They all piled into the car and pulled away from the party in search of the alpha.  
  
“What happened to Stiles?” Lydia asked as they started down the road.  
  
Scott shrugged his shoulders, “Last time I saw him, he was with his friend, Heather.”  
  
The redhead sighed, “Something is really wrong with the world when Stiles is the one getting laid and I’m out looking for a werewolf.”  
  
Scott and Allison couldn't disagree.  
  
.  
  
  
Wesley picked up the phone in surprise. He listened carefully to the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Thank you for passing on this information.”  
  
“If we see anything we will let you know.”  
  
Clark heard the brief hesitation in the Watcher’s voice.  
  
“Unfortunately I don't think there is much we can do at the moment. My charge is still in Los Angeles and I am sorry to admit, but depending on the situation, I may be a liability rather than a help,” Wesley answered his caller's question.  
  
By this point, Clark realized it had to be Chris Argent. Considering their last experience with him, Clark knew the situation had to be pretty bad if the hunter was reaching out to Wesley.  
  
Clark would likely be able to help, but Wesley would want to keep his involvement secret if possible. The two of them had come to appreciate one another though they weren't necessarily close. Wesley valued both Clark’s physical abilities and his mind.  
  
The Watcher had adopted the role of Clark’s supernatural tutor. Wesley enjoyed expanding on Clark’s knowledge from the limited reading material they had access to. They engaged in frequent debates of morality within the context of the supernatural. Both had come to respect the other’s point of view and they’d each since revised their views to settle somewhere closer to the middle.  
  
While Wesley was supposedly the teen’s guardian, their relationship was more of equals.  
  
Wesley sighed into the phone, “I see your point. I feel I must warn you my previous personal experience dealing with a werewolf is limited to Sunnydale. I was always armed with tranquilizers and the werewolf in question willingly caged himself before transforming.”  
  
He paused briefly as he listened to Chris.  
  
“No I will not let teenagers handle this situation alone,” snapped Wesley. Amazing how far he’d come since last year.  
  
The Watcher nodded his head as though Chris would be able to see it.  
  
“I will meet you at the school soon,” Wesley confirmed.  
  
“No Clark will not be joining us. He did enough in Sunnydale, it's time he got to act his own age,” the Watcher grimaced and met Clark's eyes. Clark understood the Watcher's look completely.  
  
“I will get there as soon as possible. See you there.”  
  
Wesley hung up and explained the call, “Two feral werewolves are on the loose.”  
  
“From what I understood, pack werewolves don't go feral,” the teen commented puzzled.  
  
“They were prisoners and deprived of the moon for months before being allowed to transform,” the watcher replied grimly, “Their human sides have absolutely no control at the moment.”  
  
“But they’ll return to normal if they're stopped tonight?” Clark asked slowly.  
  
Wesley gave him a knowing look, “Today is not search and destroy. We’re aiming to capture and restrain.”  
  
Clark breathed out in relief. He began planning his search and made sure to grab several syringes before he headed towards the apartment door.  
  
“If you happen to locate them, please drop them off at the school,” Wesley called out as gathered his own materials.  
  
“Will do,” Clark replied as he left, “If you need me, my phone's on.”  
  
With those parting words, Clark began his search the moment he left the building. His first step would be to listen for the wolves. Failing that, he’d try a different side of town. Focusing his hearing, Clark didn't pick up any distinctly werewolf sounds.  
  
He figured he would have more luck near the outskirts of town by the reserve and sped towards the forested area. Picking up on wolven growls, Clark slowed down and focused all his senses. He could hear the wolves heading towards the school. There was also a distinct, but faint scent of blood in the air. Someone was baiting the werewolves.  
  
Clark ran to catch up with the wolves. In a matter of seconds he was running right behind them. Reaching out with a foot, he kicked the female's legs out from underneath her. She tumbled into a nearby tree. Her partner stopped and growled at Clark.  
  
The werewolf sniffed the air and approached the teen cautiously. Clark waited patiently for the wolf to make the first move. Suddenly, the male werewolf charged, howling loudly. He was trying to cover his partner’s sneak attack.  
  
Clark heard her footfalls despite the loud howling in front of him and turned to grab her as she jumped into the air. He hurled her towards the other werewolf. Both wolves yipped on impact, though the male wolf looked like he had tried to catch the female.  
  
They were intelligent and feral. _A great combination._  
  
Before either wolf could properly recover, Clark sped behind them and dealt two decisive strikes to the back of their necks. Both wolves fell to the floor. As they struggled to recover, he injected them with a small dose of specialty tranquilizer.  
  
“Sorry guys, but some people are really worried about you,” Clark apologized.  
  
He lifted both of their limp bodies onto his shoulders and began running towards the school. Careful not to injure either wolf on foliage or any obstacles, Clark ran slower than usual. He noticed a familiar figure as he left the forest. Allison was making her way to the school with blood dripping down her hand. _I should have known_ thought Clark.  
  
Clear of the forest, he sped up until he was a complete blur. When he passed Allison, she wouldn't be able to pick up anything but a brief flash of colour and a gust of wind. Imagining her surprised look, Clark grinned to himself. His good humour evaporated as he neared the school.  
  
He hadn't noticed the high pitched whine until too late. The noise caused him extreme discomfort, bordering on being painful. Even when he stopped, the whine continued to increase. He recognized the hunter tactic to herd werewolves from his readings, but thankfully hadn’t actually heard the sonic emitters until now. Someone was activating more and he winced with each additional activation. A particular vicious emitter switching on made him stagger. He almost dropped the two wolves.  
  
The high frequency sound disrupted his internal balance mechanisms. He swayed like he was drunk and actually dropped the werewolves on the floor. Wincing, Clark closed his eyes and focused on his hearing. The emitter was even louder when he focused on it and he fought the urge to keel over. Taking a deep breath, Clark pushed down on the sound.  
  
He thought of his mother's calming voice and when she’d used it to help him control his overwhelming hearing. Through sheer force of will he pushed the ringing back until it remained a faint, but annoying buzz his ear. Reaching down and shouldering the werewolves, Clark realized he’d lost track of time regaining control.  
  
Clark shook his head and turned around. If he got any closer to the school he wasn't sure he could stay standing. He ran to put distance between himself and the painful noise. Unfortunately that left him at a loss of what to do with the two wolves.  
  
After a few moments he smiled mischievously. He had an idea.  
  
.  
  
Allison was feeling on edge. Despite leaving a reasonable trail for the wolves to follow, she hadn't heard their howls for a while now. The large gust of wind soon after they went silent felt too coincidental and stressed her nerves. She swore she’d seen blur go by, but in the darkness she couldn't be sure.  
  
The school was still a fair distance away and if the wolves had fallen silent for malicious reasons, she needed to keep up the pace. She was running near the street when she felt a strong gust of wind blow towards her. Allison instinctively threw her hands up in front of her face and closed her eyes. She felt dirt, leaves, and small rocks bounce off her hands and face. Her hair blew back and likely tangled with some of the debris. When the wind finally settled, she opened her eyes.  
  
Startled, Allison pulled out her knife on pure reflex. Both werewolves lay in front of her breathing gently. Her eyes struggled to process what she was seeing. One moment she’d been running down an empty road and the next, both her targets had appeared in front of her fast asleep.  
  
Allison shifted into a ready stance just to be safe. The sound of clinking brought her eyes downwards.  
  
“What the hell,” she said staring at the syringes on the floor by her foot.  
  
She had a feeling the amber liquid inside was a tranquilizer agent. The same tranquilizer agent which had been able to put two out of control werewolves to sleep.  
  
Her eyes swept the area as she checked for potential threats. The situation reeked of some sort of trap or setup, but she couldn't see anything. Nothing new appeared either when she used her infrared goggles. Reluctantly, she took out her phone and hit a number she still had on speed dial.  
  
“Hey Scott?... I don't know how, but I’ve got the missing werewolves,” Allison said.  
  
She winced at the volume of his reply. He was not happy.  
  
“Look, I'm already here. And I'm fine. They're actually asleep right now. You know what? Just get over here,” she rattled off her location before putting away her phone.  
  
Neither werewolf looked like they were going to wake soon. Still, it couldn't hurt to be cautious. She pocketed the syringes and kept her knife out. It was nerve wracking standing guard over two unconscious werewolves. Allison would much rather be doing something other than standing guard over their bodies.  
  
Allison felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Someone was watching her. She didn't know who or from where, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being observed. The most logical guess would have been from the treeline of the forest, but it was too far. There would be no way for anyone to really see or hear anything.  
  
Turning around she called out cautiously, “Who’s there?”  
  
Her only reply was a slight gust of wind. She readjusted the grip on her knife. At least it felt natural that time.  
  
Trying one last time, she yelled out, “I know you're out there!”  
  
A low growl let Allison know she’d woken Boyd up. Spinning in place, she brought up her knife as the second werewolf struggled to her feet. The two werewolves began menacing and circling around the hunter. She reached into her pocket and uncapped the syringe.  
  
The werewolves were either waiting for a better angle of attack or until they’d shaken off more of the tranquilizer’s effects. Whatever they were waiting for, they seemed to find it several tense minutes later. Allison readied herself as the werewolves lowered themselves to the ground. Then the wolves pounced.  
  
The world suddenly blurred all around her. Allison screamed. Something grabbed her and she felt pressure in her pocket. The world snapped back into focus less than a second later. Allison was standing on the other side of the street and both werewolves were collapsed on the floor. She felt briefly nauseous from her displacement.  
  
The syringe she’d been holding onto was gone. Reaching into her pocket, she found the other syringes were missing as well. Confused and more than a little scared, Allison carefully approached the downed werewolves. She noticed they were still breathing as she got closer and that Boyd was definitely snoring.  
  
She was still trying to piece together the most recent series of events when she heard a car pull up. Her father, Derek, Scott, and Wesley all piled out of the car. Derek was on her in an instant.  
  
“What did you do to them?” he demanded with a growl.  
  
The alpha of his pack was looking more angry than usual which was a feat in itself. His brown hair was windswept and his dark clothes were dirty from his run through the forest. Scott intercepted his hand when the alpha made to grab Allison. Everyone heard the hammer of a gun being cocked back.  
  
“We’re only here to help, Derek,” Chris warned, “If we wanted you dead, you would be already.”  
  
Her father didn't look too happy with Allison either. There was definitely going to be some serious discussion when they got home.  
  
“What happened?” Derek demanded, his eyes glowing red. He shook off Scott’s hand, but kept himself under control. Barely.  
  
Allison struggled to find the words, “I don't really understand. One moment I was running, the next both of them were in front of me asleep on the road.”  
  
Derek snorted in disbelief while Scott frowned.  
  
“That doesn't make any sense,” her ex replied perplexed, “Are you sure?”  
  
“No. It was all a blur. Literally. They woke up and the next second the tranquilizers were gone and they were back asleep,” Allison recalled in frustration.  
  
“What tranquilizers?” Derek questioned, “You never mentioned them before.”  
  
The brunette shook her head, “They just appeared the same time as the two werewolves.”  
  
“Where are they now?” Scott asked.  
  
“I don't know. They're just gone,” Allison replied hopelessly.  
  
Derek did not look happy with her explanation and snorted. He rounded suddenly on Wesley who was kneeling over the two sleeping werewolves. The Watcher was slathering a rather pungent salve onto both werewolves’ wounds.  
  
“What the hell do you-” the alpha began.  
  
“This should help enhance their natural healing. They're both healthy and in reasonable condition all things considered. It seems that whatever tranquilizers were used, they did their job,” the bespectacled man gave his assessment.  
  
“It fucking stinks,” Derek, shot back angrily.  
  
“I would rather overwhelm your sense of smell and assure their good health. Thank you very much,” Wesley shot back. He looked up at the Alpha when he finished his work.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at Chris who was still pointing his gun to Derek. The alpha werewolf was ignoring it and choosing to loom over the Watcher menacingly.  
  
“What a pleasant _arrangement_ you have here,” Wesley said sarcastically.  
  
Chris ignored him, “Can you play nice with our guest Derek?”  
  
The werewolf was quiet for a long time assessing Wesley. He finally moved to check on the werewolves himself. Chris lowered his gun and clicked on the safety.  
  
“Hunters,” Derek snorted.  
  
Neither Wesley nor Chris corrected his assumption.  
  
Scott was checking on Allison and ignored the drama between the adults. He also tried not to scrunch his nose even when he stood slightly upwind from the two wolves. That salve really did stink.  
  
“You ok?” he asked quietly, rubbing her arms.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Allison replied, still shaken, “Even if I’m retired, I was a good hunter remember?”  
  
“I remember,” the teen wolf laughed softly.  
  
“I just don't understand what happened,” the brunette said.  
  
Her eyebrows crinkled in thought. She really didn't have enough to go on.  
  
Scott made sure to meet her eyes, “We’ll figure it out alright? We can talk to Stiles.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. I'm just tired,” Allison replied, “This might make more sense tomorrow.”  
  
Her father walked over and put a protective hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Are you ok?” he asked.  
  
She gave him a small smile, “I'm fine dad. Really.”  
  
Derek stood abruptly the same time Scott turned his head towards the forest.  
  
“Something’s there.”  
  
“Something's watching us.”  
  
They spoke out simultaneously. They both tensed and relaxed after a moment. The others looked questioningly at the two.  
  
“Whatever it is, it’s gone,” explained Derek gruffly.  
  
He turned to the two hunters, “Thanks for the help Argents but leave my pack the fuck alone in the future.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” grumbled Allison.  
  
Everyone else struggled to keep a straight face. They understood Derek’s words stemmed from worry for his pack. Besides, the alpha thanking hunters was basically a miracle.  
  
Chris gave him a quick nod, “You can handle things from here. It's almost dawn.”  
  
“Allison, Wesley, are you ready to go?” he asked.  
  
They both responded in the affirmative. Allison gave her father a look before indicating her ex with a jerk of her head. Her father stared back until he finally caved after several seconds.  
  
“Scott?” he offered reluctantly.  
  
The teen shook his head, “I'm going to stay with Derek and make sure everything's alright.”  
“Let's go then,” Chris said to his two would-be passengers.  
  
“We need to disable the sonic emitters once we return to the school,” Wesley pointed out.  
  
The hunter nodded in agreement as they piled into the car. Allison watched Scott the whole time as they drove away from the scene. When he was finally out of sight, the brunette wracked her brains in concentration. What the hell had happened earlier?  
  
Clark was calling himself all sorts of stupid as he headed back to the apartment. He’d underestimated the dosage required to keep the feral werewolves down, something he could have easily avoided. If he had accounted for the fact they hadn't transformed for months he wouldn't have used such a low dosage. If a similar situation ever came up again, he wouldn't make the same mistake.  
  
Allison had almost gotten hurt for that mistake. The fact that he had to expose his powers a second time to her was a minor issue. He’d taken back the syringes as a precaution. Clark was grateful he’d stayed to watch, but regretted the unnecessary danger he’d put Allison in. He owed her an apology and it was one he’d never be able express.  
  
Then again, guilt wasn't a new feeling for Clark.  
  
.  
  
  
Clark relaxed into the couch. He hadn’t slept the night before and constantly worrying about the werewolves was stressful. The feral wolves had been worrisome, but school was the problem.  
  
The feud between the two werewolf groups was spilling over into the public domain. Or at least he assumed the fighting and resentment were a result of werewolf politics. He’d never gained verbal confirmation that the twins, Ethan and Aiden, were werewolves, but the assumption wasn't too much of a logic jump.  
  
Isaac, Scott and the returning student, Boyd,clearly had an issue with them beyond regular high school squabbles. Clark didn’t really know why both sides were clashing, but he drew the line when it risked other students’ safety. If anyone transformed in anger, the risk of collateral damage was high. Nevermind what exposure to the supernatural might do to the unaware. He’d been surprised when Allison joined in.  
  
He assumed she would be more cautious. Helping mess with a werewolf’s motorcycle in the middle of class was both indiscreet and risky. A crowded classroom and its adjacent hallway was a perfect example of a terrible place for a werewolf transformation. Thankfully, Aiden had managed to hold off on the impulse.  
  
Clark was so deep in thought he didn't notice Wesley until the Watcher placed the cup of tea in front of him.  
  
“Rupert finally pulled through. Give it a try,” Wesley took a sip from his own cup before relaxing into his seat with a contented sigh.  
  
Clark took a drink and sat back, “Thanks. I really needed that.”  
  
“You look absolutely knackered,” the watcher commented. The question was implied by his tone.  
  
“These werewolves are fighting during school time. On top of last night, I’ve been a little stressed,” the teen explained.  
  
“Remember why we're here,” Wesley reminded him.  
  
“Yes I know, the portents of rising darkness,” Clark said. He rubbed his temples, “We don't have anything to go on beyond the sacrificed virgins.”  
  
“Actually, I have reason to believe the killer has moved onto a new series of victims.”  
  
The teen cocked an eyebrow. This was new information.  
  
“I do believe that the most recent murder was, in fact, not a virgin,” Wesley explained, “Considering this region’s druidic history, I believe I have identified the ritual our dark practitioner is following.”  
  
Clark sighed. Sometimes he forgot how much Wesley enjoyed listening to himself talk.  
  
“And?”  
  
“I believe we are dealing with a Darach. As you are familiar, in essence, a dark druid. I believe our caster is attempting to gain power through sacrifice in threes,” the watcher continued, “Power can be drawn from three virgins, warriors, guardians, healers, or philosophers.”  
  
“Then they’ve already finished with the virgins,” Clark grimaced. He couldn't remember when he became so accepting of death, “Do you know what group is next?”  
  
“Warrior is the only group which makes sense considering our most recent victim,” Wesley replied. He took another sip from his tea, “We need to identify potential victims before they can be taken.”  
  
“So I need to somehow keep watch over every police officer, former military, and all current military personnel. Maybe even the local black belt,” Clark replied sarcastically, “Warrior is a very general term Wesley.”  
  
The watcher nodded sadly, “Until we know more you’ll have to remain vigilant. I will see what research I can dig up, but I must admit my competency with computers is barely passable.”  
  
Clark winced. The next logical step would be to look for matching profiles within the town, but that was a lot of people to go through.  
  
“I’ll help,” Clark offered.  
  
The watcher reluctantly shook his head, “I think it would suit our purposes better if you were out in the field. You may get lucky or at least keep this town from ripping itself apart.”  
  
When Clark looked at him questioningly, Wesley rubbed his forehead.  
  
“As reluctant as I am to wade into werewolf politics, we cannot allow their violence to hurt others. It is something to do until we have more information.”  
  
“You mean another victim,” Clark accused.  
  
He immediately regretted it. Wesley looked just as upset about the situation.  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” the teen apologized.  
  
Wesley waved it off, “I understand the last day has been quite trying. Nothing to worry about.”  
  
“We could really use Faith right now,” Clark pointed out reluctantly. He didn't know how he’d feel finally seeing her again.  
  
The watcher nodded in agreement as he took another sip from his cup. He put it down gently.  
  
“She's already on the way. Angel said she should be arriving within the next day or so,” Wesley gave Clark a knowing look, “Then again, you know Faith.”  
  
“So anytime within the next week then,” joked Clark.  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
Both men sat quietly enjoying the companionable silence and their tea. Wesley had brought some cookies to go with his. Stealthily, Clark reached over and stole one off the Watcher's plate. Wesley gave him a scathing look, but didn't openly object. The biscuits were a bit dry though they paired reasonably with the tea.  
  
Wesley was the first to break the silence.  
  
“We should speak to the Argents,” he said.  
  
“Why?” Clark asked. He intended to talk to Allison about the wolf packs, but he wasn't sure why Chris Argent needed to be involved.  
  
“I just realized, if the murderer is aware of the Argents’ true history-” Wesley began.  
  
“Then they might be in danger,” Clark finished for him.  
  
He stood up abruptly letting a few cookie crumbs fall to the floor.  
  
“I wanted to talk to Allison anyways. I’ll head over right now,” Clark said.  
  
Wesley raised an eyebrow, “The young miss Argent is a pretty young woman.”  
  
“That's not why I wanted to talk to her,” Clark replied startled.  
  
“I notice you didn't disagree with me,” the Watcher said straight-faced. The crinkling in the corners of his eyes were the only sign of his amusement.  
  
“Wesley…” Clark groaned.  
  
“I’m only stating my observations,” he replied airily.  
  
Wesley relaxed into his chair and opened the newspaper. His air of casual nonchalance was completely artificial. Clark resisted the urge call him out on it.  
  
“Don't you have a beautiful young maiden to see?” Wesley asked through his paper.  
  
A cold blast of air slapped the newspaper against his face. He spluttered as he flailed about in his seat. When Wesley finally restored some semblance of his dignity, he looked up and Cark was gone.  
  
.  
  
  
“Mr. Argent.”  
  
“Clark. What brings you here?” Chris looked mildly surprised. He narrowed his eyes, “Allison isn't here right now.”  
  
Clark shifted awkwardly, “I was hoping to talk to her privately, but there's also some things you both need to hear.”  
  
Chris examined him critically. He kept his face a blank mask knowing it would unnerve the teen. Clark fidgeted slightly but bore a serious expression. He probably did have something important to say.  
  
With a small nod of his head, Chris opened to front door further, “Come on in.”  
  
Clark winced visibly.  
  
The former hunter paused and gave him a knowing look, “We aren't in Sunnydale Clark.”  
  
“I still worry Mr. Argent. Better safe than sorry,” the teen responded sincerely.  
  
Chris was caught somewhat off-guard. Looking for any signs of insincerity, he found none. He smiled and moved down the hall towards the seating area.  
  
“You're certainly more polite than the Watcher,” Chris commented.  
  
Clark walked in step with him, “Wesley is polite. He just sometimes… puts his foot in his mouth.”  
  
The older man gave him a critical look.  
  
“Ok fine, he does it a lot.”  
  
Chris surprisingly let out a light laugh. He was more comfortable with Clark’s presence this time around. It could have also been the lack of the Watcher.  
  
They both took a seat and Chris sat forward, steepling his fingers together. His eyes flickered from Clark’s face to down the hall. The teen seemed completely willing to let Chris take the lead in their conversation.  
  
“You really shouldn't be involved in this world,” Chris said finally, sitting back in his seat.  
  
His voice was serious with a touch of concern.  
  
“I already am sir. There's no going back now,” Clark replied with a determined look.  
  
“You can always leave. Or just turn a blind eye. You're much too kind for what this life can do to you,” Chris argued. The kid was.  
  
“I can't do nothing,” Clark replied.  
  
“I’m not sure you understand what this life can cost. There's a reason we retired,” the ex-hunter said. His sister. His wife.  
  
“Allison seems to have lost that memo,” Clark replied.  
  
“She can be wilful…” Chris stopped as he recognized the same look in the teen’s eyes.  
  
His talk would be respectfully received and then completely ignored. He might as well be talking to a wall.  
  
He sighed, “I see there's no point.”  
  
Chris stood up and walked to the doorway before yelling, “Allison! We have a guest. Come out, we need to talk.”  
  
Clark looked at him startled, “You said she wasn't home.”  
  
Chris made his way back to his seat. He didn't acknowledge the teen’s accusation until he was comfortably seated.  
  
“I lied,” he responded unrepentantly.  
  
Clark was about to reply when Allison appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Who is—oh hey Clark,” she greeted. She joined them at the coffee table and took a seat near the other teen.  
  
Her father raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.  
  
“Hey,” Clark replied shyly.  
  
The wilful teen from before was gone. He sat there completely focused on Allison and fiddled at their closeness. He did not look comfortable.  
  
Not that she noticed. She seemed to be stubbornly ignoring the signs. That didn't mean she wasn’t reacting to Clark though. Chris couldn't help but notice the small blush on her cheeks. He didn't like what he was seeing.  
  
“You two seem much more comfortable than last time,” he commented.  
  
“We had a chance to talk through our differences,” explained Allison confidently.  
  
Clark was a completely different matter.  
  
“Uh.. yeah, what she said,” he stammered out.  
  
Chris was not impressed. Where had the confident young man he’d just met gone? Had he imagined Clark’s determination? This stammering schoolboy was quickly losing the respect he’d earned earlier.  
  
“What did you need to tell us?” Chris asked frostily.  
  
If Clark noticed his change in tone, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead he became solemn and met Chris’ eyes.  
  
“We have reason to believe the two of you may be in danger,” the teen explained.  
  
“Is that a threat?” Chris demanded.  
  
“It's a warning, right Clark?” Allison interjected.  
  
“It is a warning,” Clark met the elder Argents’ gaze unflinchingly.  
  
After a moment, Chris nodded for the teen to continue. The confident young man was back.  
  
“We believe that a Darach is behind the recent murders,” he explained.  
  
“Darach?” both Argents asked, unfamiliar with the term.  
  
“Simplified, they're dark druids. We believe whoever it is, is employing sacrifices of three to gain power,” Clark continued.  
  
Allison looked disturbed, but Chris remained unmoved.  
  
“I have yet to see why we need to be concerned.”  
  
His daughter shot him a look. She knew him better than that, but Clark was associated with the Council, even peripherally. Chris needed to keep some things close to chest.  
  
“Three virgins have been sacrificed and we believe the Darach has moved on to a new group of people,” Clark said. He looked at Allison in worry before looking back to Chris, “We believe the next three sacrifices will all be warriors.”  
  
“You think we could be targets because of what we were,” Chris surmised.  
  
Allison bit her lip worriedly.  
  
Clark nodded, “The most recent victim wasn't a virgin and he doesn't fit the role of healer, philosopher, or guardian. Warrior is the best fit.”  
  
“We’re retired,” Chris repeated from earlier. His voice didn't carry the weight it should have.  
  
Clark gave Allison a knowing look which she returned rebelliously.  
  
“It might not matter. We don't know what conditions the Darach is looking for in terms of a ‘warrior’,” at Allison’s questioning look, Clark continued, “The next victim could be anyone. You two just came to mind as potential warriors.”  
  
Allison clearly looked flattered, but Chris wasn't sure that was a good thing.  
  
“We appreciate the warning. If we see or hear anything we’ll get in contact with you,” Chris said.  
  
More ambivalent about Clark than before, he wanted the teen out of the apartment so he could talk to his daughter.  
  
“It might be better if you tried to get in contact with Wesley. He's easier to reach and he can always pass things on to me.”  
  
Chris grimaced, he would have preferred Clark of the two, “Wesley then.”  
  
“Thank you Clark. Let me see you to the door,” he said, standing up.  
  
The teen looked startled. His eyes darted between Chris and his daughter. Clark finally settled on the elder Argent.  
  
“I need to talk to your daughter privately.”  
  
“Now is not the time,” Chris replied.  
  
“I think it should be my choice,” Allison cut in.  
  
Allison challenged her father with a silent look. Chris was fine with her trying to stare him down. He’d faced worse in his lifetime, though possibly nothing as stubborn. She was still his daughter though.  
  
Clark shifted in his seat. He kept glancing between them before he spoke again.  
  
“It’s about school,” the teen added.  
  
Allison looked at Clark confused and Chris took the opportunity to study his visitor again. He wasn't acting like a shy schoolboy even with his daughter’s full attention. This told Chris more than it should. If Clark was going to survive in the world, he really needed to work on developing his poker face.  
  
“I expect you back before dark. We need to talk as well,” he met Allison’s eyes. He eventually waved a dismissal to the two teens.  
  
Allison hopped up and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Thanks dad.”  
  
Chris grunted in response. He looked at the other teen. Clark sat on the couch completely flabbergasted by his sudden change of heart. The teen really needed to work on his facial expressions.  
  
“Get out of here before I change my mind,” Chris commanded.  
  
“Yes sir,” Clark stood and walked into the hallway. He paused to wait for Allison near the front door.  
  
“He called you sir,” Allison giggled.  
  
“Just come home soon,” Chris said.  
  
There was that at least. Clark was infallibly polite.  
  
“Sir,” his daughter gave him a mocking salute and made her way down the hall.  
  
Chris caught the flush of Clark’s ears from all the way down the hall as the two left. The man sighed and rubbed his forehead. Thinking about Clark was starting to hurt his head.  
  
.  
  
“So what did you want to talk about?” Allison asked.  
  
They’d walked a fair distance from the Argents’ apartment. Their walk had been relaxed on the surface, but Clark had been debating internally the whole way. He wasn't sure how he wanted to approach the problem. He knew what he wanted to say, but it probably wasn't going to go over well. _Like a band-aid then._  
  
“What you helped Isaac do today was stupid,” he stated.  
  
Of all times to channel Wesley, now had to be one of the worst times. He definitely could have worded that better.  
  
“I'm sorry. What?” she looked more confused than angry.  
  
Clark could work with that.  
  
“What you all did with the twins’ bikes. That was dangerous,” he clarified.  
  
“I don't know what to say Clark. Aiden was the one showing off his bike,” Allison tried to play it off.  
  
“Aiden rode his bike into the hallway. From inside the classroom,” Clark raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “That's what you're going to go with?”  
  
“Sure,” the huntress replied glibly. She gave him a cheeky grin.  
  
Clark was not nearly as amused. He stopped walking and Allison turned in surprise.  
  
“Your prank was dangerous and could have gotten people hurt,” he told her seriously.  
  
She clearly did not appreciate being criticized. Crossing her arms, she glared at him defiantly.  
  
“They had it coming,” she said, “Besides, it was harmless.”  
  
“Provoking two werewolves in a crowded school is completely harmless?” Clark demanded angrily.  
  
“It was fine! They wouldn't have transformed,” Allison shot back.  
  
Clark would have shouted back if he hadn't picked up the brief hint of hesitation in her voice.  
  
“Allison, intense emotions and enhanced strength can be a very dangerous combination,” he explained more calmly.  
  
When he finished speaking, he saw Allison reach towards her arm unconsciously. Intercepting her hand, Clark got her attention. He asked her a question silently with his eyes. Meeting his gaze for a moment, she sighed and nodded her head.  
  
Clark dropped her hand and gently took her other arm in his hands. He slowly rolled up her sleeve. When he reached the bandage, Allison let out a soft hiss. The blood had dried, but the bandage itself was still quite fresh.  
  
“What happened?” Clark asked quietly.  
  
“He didn't mean to. Someone locked Isaac with me inside a closet. The tight space brought back traumatic memories for him and he panicked. It's not his fault,” Allison defended.  
  
Clark wanted to drive his previous point home.  
  
“Accidents happen despite the best of intentions,” he said softly.  
  
He was basically saying I told you so, but she needed to understand how childish and risky her actions had been earlier that day. Taunting potentially dangerous werewolves was not a good idea for public safety.  
  
Taking her arm back, she rolled down her sleeve.  
  
“I get it,” she said finally. She didn't meet his eyes.  
  
As though through an unspoken agreement, the two began walking again, though at a slower pace. Allison turned to Clark with a sad smile.  
  
“We really were stupid today, weren’t we?”  
  
Clark winced, “I didn't really mean to-”  
  
“It’s fine. I’ll try to make sure Scott, Isaac, and Boyd keep things under control,” the brunette replied steadily. Her natural confidence and volume were returning.  
  
“Though Isaac and Boyd might be harder to control,” Allison frowned, “Considering their history, they’re understandably angry.”  
  
“Do I even want to know?” he asked reluctantly.  
  
“No. It’s bad,” she said. Noticing his questioning look, she added, “And no. I won't tell you. That's not for me to tell.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Clark said, understandingly. He had secrets of his own.  
  
“You know I'm quite good at keeping a secret,” she said cheekily.  
  
_Not this again._ Her smile was disarming and Clark resisted the urge to tell her about the more personal parts of his life. He’d resisted more than just a pretty face in the past; now was not the time start revealing his secrets because of a few batted eyelashes.  
  
“No,” Clark shut her down before she could ask a question.  
  
“I didn't even get to say anything,” she pouted.  
  
That was hardly fair: it was almost as bad as crocodile tears. Clark tried to ignore the small voice telling him to open up. Caution, valour, and all that.  
  
“Fine, ask. I might not answer though,” he acquiesced, caving despite himself.  
  
“How fast can you really go?” her eyes were widened in an exaggerated doe-eyed expression.  
  
Her attempt at emotional manipulation was obvious yet, difficult to resist. Clark felt nervous and picked his words carefully. He didn't want to lie, but he still had secrets to keep.  
  
“Fast enough,” he said cryptically.  
  
The two matched pace as they walked. After a while, Clark thought Allison might be letting it go for now. She had been quiet for several long moments. If she had a follow-up question she’d have said it by now.  
  
Suddenly, as though asking about the weather, she asked, “Fast enough to tranquilize a pair of werewolves without really being seen?”  
  
Clark faltered briefly. _Busted._  
  
He might’ve been able to lie if he hadn't just given up the game, but there was no way she’d missed his reaction. She had very sharp eyes and it would be insulting for Clark to pretend otherwise. Internally sighing, he looked at her.  
  
She wasn't wearing a gloating expression. Instead she surprised him.  
  
“Thank you for last night,” she said sincerely, “You really helped me and my friends.”  
  
She placed her hand over his as she spoke. They’d stop walking in the middle of a random suburban street.  
  
Clark flushed slightly and answered demurely, “It was no big deal.”  
  
He pulled his hand back. The warmth of her’s was making him uncomfortable.  
  
“Maybe not to you, but I can say it definitely isn't normal,” Allison said, awed at the memory.  
  
Clark’s expression turned somber. He’d come to terms with his origins back in Sunnydale, but sometimes he still wondered what it would be like to be a regular human. He’d never know, living in his fragile world.  
  
Small reminders of his alien origins were normally fine, but sometimes they brought up old emotions. His terror of his ability to hurt others as a child, his pain when he first became overwhelmed by the sounds around him, and his sadness knowing he could never feel things the same way as all his friends and family.  
  
Unfortunately in this case, Allison’s benign comment reminded Clark that he stood apart from humanity.  
  
“What's wrong?” Allison’s asked, her eyes widening in concern.  
  
“Nothing,” he replied.  
  
She crossed her crossed her arms before stating, “You aren't a good liar.”  
  
“I’ve heard that before,” Clark said darkly. The phrase brought up painful memories.  
  
“That's not necessarily a bad thing,” the brunette said, “It lets people see what a good person you are.”  
  
Clark grunted softly in acknowledgment, but remained silent.  
  
Not discouraged by his response, Allison reached out again. She lightly grabbed Clark’s hand, pulling his attention to her face.  
  
“What's wrong?” she asked. Her voice was demanding and understanding at the same time.  
  
Clark still held himself back. He barely knew Allison and it could be dangerous for them if his secret became known. Struggling with his emotions, Clark knew his turmoil was written all over his face. He really needed to work on that.  
  
Allison watched him with concern. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Letting go of his hand, she stepped backwards to take all of him in.  
  
“Clark it's okay,” she said, “You don't need to tell me if you don't want to.”  
  
“I want to,” Clark croaked out, “But I can't.”  
  
“Why?” there was no judgement in her voice.  
  
“It could put us both in danger,” he said.  
  
He heard her heart rate jump at his statement. Her face resettled in a calm appearance almost immediately. Clark was envious of her ability to mask her worry.  
  
“I can take care of myself,” Allison said confidently.  
  
“Just because you can handle it doesn't mean I should put you in danger,” Clark countered.  
  
“I think that should be my choice,” she replied flatly. Her voice remained calm.  
  
“It is my secret to tell,” he reminded her.  
  
“I know. I won't force you to tell me. I just don't want you holding back because you’re worried about me,” the brunette said.  
  
She smiled understandingly, “I’ve already learned more about you than anyone else in Beacon Hills. I’m a hunter, I know how to wait.”  
  
“Thanks, I appreciate that,’ Clark said softly.  
  
He returned her smile. He’d made his decision.  
  
“I am scared.”  
  
Allison arched an eyebrow at his statement and said nothing. Clark felt the words form in his mouth before slowly letting them out.  
  
“There are parts of me you won't understand. Part of me wants to tell you, but logically I shouldn't. We barely know each other, so I can't,” he said.  
  
He watched Allison quickly mask her hurt. His words were not intended to be a dismissal. He wanted to tell the truth. That’s all he ever wanted to do.  
  
“I see,” Allison’s voice didn't hide her disappointment.  
  
She turned and began walking back the way they came.  
  
“We should head back. We’re pretty far from my place and dad won't be happy if I'm late.”  
  
Before she could walk too far, Clark grabbed her hand. He spun her around and met her surprised eyes. If he was in the mood, he’d have teased her for her shocked expression. Instead, he needed to say something.  
  
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said softly.  
  
Allison pulled her hand back and crossed her arms, “I didn't think you had more to say.”  
  
Clark knew it was a small misunderstanding so he smiled, “I wanted to say that I _want_ to be able to tell you about me one day. If I get a chance to get to know you better, I might be able to tell you more.”  
  
Allison stood there poleaxed. There was definitely a struggle to process his statement. The slightly opened mouth was cute, but definitely wasn't natural to her face. Clark wasn't going miss this opportunity. She already knew about his speed anyway.  
  
She flinched at the flash and shutter sound. It took her a second to gather her wits and regain her balance.  
  
“What did you do?” Allison demanded. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
Clark shrugged his shoulders, “I didn't just take a picture of your stunned face. I swear.”  
  
If his tone didn’t give him away, the shit-eating grin probably did.  
  
“Delete it,” she demanded.  
  
“Delete what? I never took any picture remember? If I did though… it would be on this phone,” Clark casually held his phone in front of Allison’s face.  
  
When she made to grab his phone, he pulled it back and pocketed it.  
  
“Calm down Allison, it's just a picture,” Clark consoled. He knew he was doing the opposite of calming her down.  
  
“I want that photo deleted,” she said.  
  
Narrowing her eyes aggressively, she began to advance on Clark. He backed up and raised both hands above his head.  
  
“There's no photo to delete. I promise.”  
  
“I hope you remember what happened the last time we fought. I’m getting that phone one way or another,” the brunette warned.  
  
“You mean when I let you win?” Clark asked teasingly.  
  
Allison’s anger disappeared. She stopped moving and her face fell. She was thinking about their fight and looked unhappy about it.  
  
“You really did, didn’t you?” she asked rhetorically.  
  
Things had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. She ducked her head and Clark lost sight of her eyes.  
  
He instinctively moved forward to comfort her. Clark raised a hand to Allison’s chin and hesitated before making contact. He wasn't sure if what he wanted to do was going to be too familiar or not. Throughout his indecision, he heard her heart pounding in his ears.  
  
Even if she was looking down, there was no way she hadn't noticed his proximity by now. Her breathing and heart rate were elevated and she hadn't backed away. Clark decided to be bold for once and go for it.  
  
He lifted Allison’s face gently to look her in the eyes.  
  
Unfortunately, her eyes were closed.  
  
“Allison, I—”  
  
Before he could finish speaking, her eyes snapped open. They were filled with determination and nothing remotely resembling sadness or insecurity. The next thing Clark knew he was staring at the sky and Allison standing above him.  
  
“Got you again,” she said with a smirk.  
  
Clark groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, “Did I really just fall for that?”  
  
There was a flash and he looked up at the brunette. She grinned and waggled his phone in front of his face.  
  
“You really need to lock your phone,” she teased.  
  
“In my defence, not just anyone can get my phone away from me,” he replied with a smile.  
  
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said looking down at him.  
  
Allison put his phone into her back pocket and laughed, “I really can't believe that worked.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It's not like you took advantage of my worry,” Clark said sitting up.  
  
He held out his hand.  
  
“Help me up?” he asked.  
  
Allison shook her head and laughed again, “Nice try, but a big guy like you should be able to get up on his own.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
In a burst of speed Clark stood up and appeared in front of Allison. He wanted his phone, but remembered where she’d put it. He stopped unsure of how to proceed. There was a little bit of a problem and no easy solution.  
  
“Uh, could I get my phone back please?” he asked awkwardly.  
  
“Not going to reach for it?” she teased knowingly.  
  
“That's not what I had in mind when I said getting to know you,” Clark replied, shifting in discomfort.  
  
“I know. But I'm not going to lie, part of me wanted you to go for it,” Allison admitted before taking the phone out of her back pocket.  
  
She handed his phone back to him. Clark took the opportunity to check it. He saw both photos were in the camera log and didn't delete either of them. When he looked up Allison cleared her throat.  
  
“I just wanted to be clear,” she began slowly, meeting his gaze, “Did you indirectly ask me out earlier?”  
  
“Wait, what? That’s not what—I mean, I… maybe?” Clark stumbled over his words until he gave up with a shrug.  
  
“You really know how to make a girl feel wanted,” laughed Allison.  
  
The bright sound helped Clark relax.  
  
“It depends I guess. I meant it when I said I want to get to know you. If it's as friends or something else, whatever works,” he said simply. Sometimes things could go right when he spoke from his heart.  
  
Allison seemed unsure herself and she bit her lower lip in thought. Clark paid special attention to when it flicked back out from under her teeth.  
  
“I don't know what I want right now, to be honest,” she said before explaining, “I still care about Scott, but we aren't together and things are just very complicated.”  
  
Clark understood her sentiment all too well.  
  
“I understand,” he replied.  
  
“Why don't we just see how it goes?” suggested Allison.  
  
It was nice to see her slightly insecure as well: a nice contrast to her usual self-assured self. When it wasn't an act, obviously.  
  
Clark nodded in agreement at her suggestion. A light breeze blew past them scattering some dirt into the air. Neither teen looked away from each other. Clark thought she actually looked better with her brown hair slightly windswept.  
  
“I’m keeping the photo, by the way,” Clark teased.  
  
“That's fine. I sent myself a picture of your loser face,” Allison shot back, grinning.  
  
Clark checked his phone’s history and to his astonishment she did manage to send the picture earlier. He had no idea when she had found the time. He also couldn't decide if she’d inadvertently given him her number or if it was on purpose.  
  
Allison checked her own phone. She looked back up Clark regretfully.  
  
“We need to start heading back. I don't really want dad hunting you down with a gun,” she joked as they began to walk.  
  
“Well he’d have to catch me first,” Clark replied cheekily.  
  
“Remember, he’s an Argent. With all the skills and everything. Plus he's better than me,” Allison reminded him with soft shoulder bump.  
  
Clark didn't mention Chris Argent was nowhere near as pretty and probably less distracting as a result.  
  
They traded childhood stories as they walked back to Allison’s apartment. The brunette was interested in his life on the farm. He had many stories about his adventures by himself or with Pete. Lots of shenanigans and silly embarrassing moments. Chloe was brought up and even Lana was mentioned briefly. Though the story with the beauty fit the theme of Clark’s more embarrassing experiences.  
  
Allison laughed at all the right moments, tossing her hair around when she did. Clark enjoyed the warmth her laughter gave him. He obviously avoided any mention of his developing powers.  
  
In turn, Allison shared some of her life growing up. While she had been less adventurous as a child, she still had her fair share of stories. From what Clark could infer, she hadn't come into her role as a hunter until Beacon Hills. It spoke of her determination and natural talent to have reached the level of mastery she had now. Her strong athletic background helped too.  
  
When they finally got to the main entrance of Allison’s building they both stopped.  
  
Clark ruffled his hair awkwardly. His hair probably looked messy by the fourth pass of his hand.  
  
“Good talk,” he said suddenly.  
  
Allison smiled knowingly, “Yes, it was.”  
  
“Ok.”  
  
“Ok.”  
  
She was not making this easy on him at all. Based on her tone and playful smirk, she was being difficult on purpose. Clark needed help and not a handicap.  
  
“I’ll see you at school,” she said cheerily. She was amused by his struggle.  
  
“See you,” he replied lamely.  
  
She gave him a final smile before heading inside. When she was out of sight, Clark walked up to the nearest wall and banged his head against it gently. While it didn't hurt him, it was the sentiment.  
  
“I’ve seen, well, heard worse,” a voice chuckled from nearby.  
  
Clark turned to see a man standing confidently in the shade of a nearby tree. He stood with his legs slightly spread and both hands resting on his white cane. His eyes were slightly obscured by his sunglasses, but Clark could see they were unfocused underneath. Nonetheless, the man acted with as though he knew Clark's location with absolute certainty .  
  
“It could have gone better,” Clark replied walking over to the man.  
  
The man’s stance was relaxed yet powerful. It spoke of extreme confidence. He nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
“It also could have gone far worse,” the blind man said wisely.  
  
“True,” the teen admitted.  
  
“My name is Deucalion,” the man offered graciously.  
  
“I’m Clark.”  
  
“I know we just met Clark, but I need to ask you a favour,” Deucalion said with a frown.  
  
“What is it?” Clark asked cautiously.  
  
“I recently just moved into the penthouse upstairs and I'm not completely familiar with the building and its surroundings yet. Could you guide me back up?” the man asked.  
  
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” the teen replied.  
  
Clark walked over to the man and offered his arm. Deucalion placed his hand in the crook of Clark’s elbow and the two made their way to the building entrance. When they got to the doors, the teen opened the door and guided the man through.  
  
Getting across the lobby and into the elevator had been relatively easy. Once inside the elevator, Deucalion dropped his hand.  
  
“The penthouse right?” Clark confirmed.  
  
When the other man nodded he pressed the button for the penthouse. The elevator rose at a calm pace.  
  
“Was that miss Argent I heard you talking to earlier?” Deucalion asked curiously, “I thought I recognized her voice.”  
  
“You know Allison?” Clark asked surprised.  
  
“She and her father do live directly below me.”  
  
Clark conceded that it did make sense. The apartment building wasn't that big and it would be easy to acquaint yourself with some neighbours.  
  
“Yeah, that was Allison,” he replied.  
  
“Well I wish you luck. By all accounts she is a most delightful and beautiful young woman,” Deucalion said amiably.  
  
Clark rubbed his arm awkwardly, “She is.”  
  
“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention to meddle. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me,” the other man apologized with a chuckle.  
  
He must have sensed the discomfort Clark had been broadcasting.  
  
“Don't worry about it,” Clark replied.  
  
The elevator pinged for the top floor. When the door opened, Clark guided Deucalion into the small hallway. There was only one door so the teen assumed that would be their destination.  
  
At the door into the penthouse, Clark turned to his companion.  
  
“This is it. Are you going to be ok from here?”  
  
The man shifted and reached into his pockets to pull out his keys. He ran several keys through his fingers before selecting the correct key. With little effort he unlocked the door.  
  
“That should suffice. Thank you Clark,” Deucalion said.  
  
Placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, Clark said his goodbye and began to walk away.  
  
“Sorry, I just realized some movers may have dropped off the rest of my things today and might have made a mess. I’m a little concerned to be honest,” said Deucalion suddenly.  
  
Clark frowned. He couldn't let the man stumble around his apartment. It wasn't like he had any other plans for the rest of the day.  
  
“I can help a little if you need it,” Clark offered.  
  
“That would be greatly appreciated,” Deucalion replied with a smile.  
  
Clark opened the door to see a clean entryway. He noticed the lights were on further down the hall and he could hear faint conversation.  
  
“Were you expecting anyone?” Clark whispered urgently.  
  
Deucalion frowned, “The movers should have left by now.”  
  
“Stay here,” Clark said firmly.  
  
He focused his hearing down the hall as he crept towards the home invaders. Several voices were talking from the living room. Two of them were actually quite familiar. The twins, Ethan and Aiden, were talking with two others in the living room.  
  
“This place really is fancy,” Ethan commented.  
  
“Way better than our old place,” Aiden added.  
  
There was a snort and a feminine voice replied, “We’re not going to be here too long. Don't get comfortable. Remember why we're here.”  
  
Angry at the home invaders, Clark realized this was probably the other werewolf pack in Beacon Hills. They were about to attack a blind man within his own home. Clark rounded the corner and stepped aggressively into the room.  
  
“You all need to leave,” he demanded.  
  
The occupants of the living room stared at him in surprise. The twins were lounging on the couch while a woman sat on a chair with her legs propped on a fancy glass coffee table. Her feet were clawed like an animal’s. The fourth person in the room was off standing in the corner. Their responses were relatively quick.  
  
‘Who the fuck are you’ and ‘What are you doing here’ were the general sentiment.  
  
“We have a guest. Behave.”  
  
Clark turned in surprise. Deucalion stood in the doorway of the room with his cane resting lightly in his hands. The man was smiling and Clark suddenly had the sinking feeling he’d been duped.  
  
Deucalion’s statement did not dampen the werewolves’ surprise and anger, but their aggressive stances relaxed. Some curiosity wormed its way into the twins’ gazes. They clearly recognized him from school.  
  
“We don't have time for your little games,” the woman told Deucalion. She gave him an angry look, “We should be killing the kiddy pack.”  
  
Clark flinched at her casual talk of wholesale murder. He had known the second wolf pack was bad news, just not how bad until now.  
  
“Kali, that's not why we're here,” Deucalion reminded her. His smile never left his face, “Besides, you're not paying attention.”  
  
The man in the corner sniffed and flared his nostrils. Growling, he stepped towards Clark.  
  
“What are you?” the werewolf demanded.  
  
This was becoming at unwanted and repeating theme in Clark’s life since arriving in Beacon Hills. The twins looked startled before cautiously sniffing the air. They both stared at Clark in confusion.  
  
Deucalion walked past them and sat down in the most luxurious chair in the room. He faced Clark with an expression of curiosity.  
  
“I was hoping to find out the same thing Clark,” he said. He gave a lopsided grin, “If I didn't know better, I would have asked about the nature of your relationship with Allison Argent.”  
  
“You tricked me,” Clark accused.  
  
“I did,” the older man acknowledged, “Like I said, my curiosity can get the best of me.”  
  
“So he smells a little funny. What the hell Deucalion?” asked Kali.  
  
“I’m leaving,” Clark said decisively. He turned with the intent of leaving.  
  
“Ennis.”  
  
Clark heard the man leap at Deucalion’s command. The growl told Clark the werewolf was transformed to some degree. He turned his head before reaching out to grab the werewolf mid-air. With a casual motion, he sent his attacker into a nearby wall.  
  
The throw had been gentle and well within the realm of human capabilities. Still, Clark found himself wary of Deucalion’s thoughtful expression.  
  
Kali’s predatory expression wasn't comforting either. Before he could say anything, Clark heard the werewolf, who he assumed was Ennis, try to grab him from behind. Reaching over his shoulder, he used the werewolf’s momentum to toss him at the twins’ sofa.  
  
The two yelped in protest before Ennis impacted them and flipped the sofa onto its back.  
  
Kali showed all of her teeth in a feral grin, “I take it back. You're very interesting.”  
  
Deucalion remained silent in his seat.  
  
In a burst of motion, Kali jumped up and delivered a quick kick towards Clark's head. He dropped down to the floor, dodging it. He followed it up by kicking her foot from out beneath her. More out of surprise than anything, the werewolf couldn't stop her fall to the floor.  
  
Her tumble gave Clark a second to look at the sofa. The twins were looking at him in admiration, while Ennis was back on his feet. The adult werewolf snarled as he approached Clark.  
  
Distracted, Clark didn’t return his attention to Kali in time. A vicious kick sent Clark flying into the coffee table. On the floor, glass rained down all around the teen. He got up quickly, more upset at himself than anything else.  
  
The twins were standing now as well and eyeing him critically.  
  
“Not even a scratch,” Ethan commented.  
  
“The view’s pretty good too,” Kali said from behind Clark.  
  
Spinning so his back was to Deucalion, Clark looked at Kali. Clark thought her expression was disturbing earlier, but her current look was even more so. He wasn't sure if she wanted to kill him or jump his bones. Probably both and in that order. Clark shuddered.  
  
“He's in our class,” Ethan said, “And a minor you sicko.”  
  
His brother’s brow wrinkled in thought, “Actually I'm pretty sure he's legal. He's doing a repeat year. You’d still be cradle robbing though.”  
  
“Enough,” everyone stopped at Deucalion’s command.  
  
He directed his attention to Clark, “Tell us what you are and your intentions in Beacon Hills. We'll let you leave in peace if you do.”  
  
Ennis and Kali made noises in disagreement, but didn't move when Deucalion raised his hand. The twins kept their faces carefully blank.  
  
Clark was not having any of it. He hated it when people abused their power. It was just bullying in another form.  
  
“No,” he replied angrily.  
  
“Suit yourself,” Deucalion said with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
Kali and Ennis took his words as a signal to attack. Winding up, Kali sent a spinning kick at Clark’s side. Ennis went to bite his shoulder. Neither of them connected.  
  
In a blur of motion, Clark sent the female werewolf flying across the room with a blow to the chest. Ennis was smacked down with enough force for his head to break the woodwork flooring.  
  
Kali managed to stumble back to her feet, but Ennis stayed down. The twins traded unsure looks while Deucalion sat in his throne-like seat. Coming to a decision, the twins came together and fused into large single werewolf.  
  
Clark was briefly reminded of Dragon Ball Z.  
  
The large werewolf swiped at the teen with a huge claw. Clark stepped back to avoid it. Other clawing attacks were met with a similar response as Clark dodged each attack easily. He narrowed his eyes when the werewolf moved to impale his chest. These werewolves were trying his patience.  
  
A powerful blow to the gut sent the large werewolf towards the sofa. Before it hit the floor, Clark watched in amazement as the werewolf split back into Ethan and Aiden. Both teens vomited violently the moment they were able to.  
  
Kali stopped in her tracks. It seemed like she was reconsidering attacking Clark.  
  
“Most impressive,” Deucalion said with a wide smile, “You should join us.”  
  
“I'm not a werewolf,” Clark replied flatly.  
  
“You aren't human either. Who would understand you better? Them or us? You're superior to them. So are we,” the werewolf countered. The smile never left his face.  
  
“You're wrong,” Clark said adamantly. He shook his head, “No one is above anyone else. Especially me.”  
  
“You have power. Together, our pack would be unstoppable,” Deucalion tried a different tactic.  
  
His statement might have been more impressive if three of his pack wasn't currently incapacitated. Clark shook his head angrily.  
  
“Even if I wanted to join a pack of werewolves for some crazy reason, it wouldn't be yours. Scott’s pack doesn't seem full of psychopaths,” the teen shot back.  
  
Kali laughed, “They’re pathetic, weak, and useless.”  
  
“We are all alphas. Our pack is unique amongst all werewolves,” Deucalion proclaimed, “We are the strongest.”  
  
“Strength isn’t everything,” Clark replied stonily.  
  
Deucalion’s smile faded and he looked thoughtful instead. He was gaining a measure of Clark’s character.  
  
“It is where werewolves are concerned.”  
  
“Good thing I'm not a werewolf then,” Clark snapped back, “Your brand of politics needs work.”  
  
“This is getting stupid,” Kali said.  
  
She assessed Clark as a non-threat and walked out of the room without a second glance.  
  
Deucalion looked unhappy with her abrupt departure. He returned his attention back to Clark.  
  
“You’re young and idealistic. You’ll see one day that regular humans will be unable to accept your existence. Even that pretty hunter of yours. Our door will always be open for when that day comes,” the werewolf offered sincerely.  
  
He indicated the wreckage of a living room.  
  
“We won't even ask you to pay for damages,” he added as a joke.  
  
“Just leave ‘regular humans’ alone and I'll leave you alone,” Clark snapped as he stormed out.  
  
He slammed the front door hard enough to destroy the hinges and door frame.  
  
As the doorway collapsed, Deucalion sat down thoughtfully. He grinned to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the update. I will likely be semi-regular with updates throughout the summer, but I can't be sure about after. If you're waiting for Faith, she's almost here. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	3. Faith, Pain, and Foreshadowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face arrives in Beacon hills, fighting ensues, and the worst has yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Superman, Teen Wolf, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
> 
> Again, thanks to nowhereman (TtHfanfic) for help on this chapter. It's always great to have a second pair of eyes going over things.

Allison sent another flashbang arrow at the werewolves below. She focused her shots on the Alpha Pack, successfully forcing the twins to split from their super form. Unfortunately, the loud sounds and bright lights would still disorient her friends too, though hopefully significantly less. She could already see the Hale pack gathering on one side of the floor.  
  
They needed to run soon before she ran out of her specialty arrows. She saw Scott reengage Ennis despite her previous interference. For a brief moment during their clash, Allison swore Scott’s eyes shone red like an alpha’s. They were even equally matched for a second. When that second ended, Ennis brutally threw her friend into a nearby concrete wall. The hunter fired another flashbang arrow in retaliation.  
  
Before the ringing from its explosion completely subsided, a loud clapping echoed throughout the abandoned mall. A brunette dressed in skin-tight leather pants casually strolled into the middle of their battlefield. Her white tank top left little to the imagination, but the sword strapped to her back was what drew Allison’s attention.  
  
The intruder took in the scene and whistled loudly.  
  
“Seems like I'm late to the party,” she said in a husky voice.  
  
Everyone was either still recovering from the flashbangs or too shocked to react. Deucalion was the only one who looked well enough to respond, but he stayed silent.  
  
“Really? Nothing? Man, I was promised some action,” the woman said with a pout.  
  
Allison felt an irrational twinge of jealousy at the intruder’s ability to add that level of sex appeal to a simple pout. She then felt irritated with herself. The thought was nowhere near important at the moment.  
  
The woman gave Derek a once over, “How about you hot stuff? If there ain't any more fighting, you and me could do for some fun.”  
  
Her proposition knocked Derek out of his stupour. He backed up to where his pack gathered and adopted a protective position in front of them.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.  
  
“I agree with Hale for once,” said Kali, clearly unhappy with the intrusion, “Who the hell are you?”  
  
The woman shrugged her shoulders, “I'm just a regular girl.”  
  
Allison didn't buy it. Something about the words and how they were said felt familiar to the hunter.  
  
None of the werewolves bought it either.  
  
“Bullshit,” snarled Derek.  
  
“You better get out of here little girl, before you hurt yourself with that toy of yours,” threatened Kali.  
  
The leather-lady smirked and shrugged her shoulder to remove her sheathed sword. Laying the sword against a nearby pillar, the woman turned to Kali. The intruder raised her hand and gave the werewolf the ‘come hither’ hand motion.  
  
“Bring it on doggy, or should I say… _bitch_ ,” the woman mocked.  
  
Kali growled in fury and launched herself at the other brunette. The werewolf attempted to deliver a vicious kick to the leather fighter’s chest. The woman sidestepped and allowed the blow to pass by her before throwing out a devastating counter.  
  
Allison’s eyes widened in shock when Kali went flying backwards several feet. This was no ordinary woman.  
  
Deucalion, sitting back down on his perch on the nearby escalator, cocked his head in interest. He did however continue to remain silent.  
  
Kali staggered to her feet and spat out a mouthful of blood.  
  
“Nice hit girly. Now it's my turn,” the werewolf ground out.  
  
“Bored,” her opponent faked a yawn.  
  
Allison recognized that the fighter was trying to rile up Kali. Maybe she was trying to reduce the werewolf’s fighting ability and focus. If that was her plan, it may have backfired.  
  
Kali growled angrily, but seemed in complete control of her actions. The werewolf unleashed a devastating flurry of kicks. If anything, she appeared to hyper focus and became even more lethal. If any of the blows landed they could easily spell the end of someone's life.  
  
Her opponent wasn’t just anyone though and she nimbly dodged every single one.  
  
“Do you have a foot fetish or something?” the leather-clad fighter asked calmly. She kept dodging the kicks with ease, “Cause I have to say, your feet are real ugly motherfuckers. Smell like ass too. Don't want them close to my face.”  
  
To emphasize her point, the brunette blocked the next kick with both arms before grabbing the werewolf’s foot. In a quick motion, she threw it upwards, sending the back of Kali’s head hurtling towards the ground. The crack of Kali’s skull against the concrete reverberated throughout the abandoned mall.  
  
Allison winced in sympathy. She’d be out cold if that happened to her. Maybe dead.  
  
More physically durable, Kali managed to struggle to her feet. Shaking her head, the alpha stumbled forward into a sloppy follow-up attack. She made a swipe with her claws, still disoriented.  
  
Her opponent snorted before dodging under the blow and punching Kali in the gut. The werewolf staggered back several feet before regaining her balance. She gripped her stomach in pain, but managed to remain standing.  
  
“She smells a bit like him,” Ennis commented, interrupting the fight.  
  
The twins, who finally recovered from the flashbang to the face, looked at him startled. Kali sniffed the air and her aggressive, albeit shaky, stance changed into a more cautious one.  
  
Deucalion raised an eyebrow, “You mean his scent is on her.”  
  
The Hale pack didn’t seem to know what the Alpha Pack was talking about. To be fair, their faces were covered in their own blood. Allison imagined it would be hard to smell anything through all that. Broken noses weren't conducive to airflow either.  
  
“I forget how good your noses can be. Pretty wicked if you ask me,” the woman commented with a grin, “Then again, I wouldn't want shit to smell like super-shit.”  
  
Pointing her thumb at Kali, she turned to the twins, “How do you handle those feet?”  
  
Despite the seriousness of the situation, several werewolves laughed. Some were even from the Alpha Pack.  
  
Kali was not as amused. She switched back to a more aggressive posture. Allison suspected imminent violence.  
  
“Why are you here Slayer?” Deucalion’s voice cut through the air.  
  
For the first time since she’d arrived, the intruder looked unsettled. Allison almost dropped her bow in surprise. If this woman was the Slayer… she had a good idea who Ennis meant by him.  
  
The Slayer was nothing like Allison expected. She practically oozed sex appeal even when fighting. In fact, she might have been sexier when she fought. Allison almost flushed at the idea. If this really was Faith, Clark’s taste in woman was far more adventurous than she expected.  
  
“A little birdy told me I might find a party here,” the Slayer replied. She shrugged her shoulders, “I needed to scratch an itch.”  
  
“By little birdy, I assume in reality you mean a certain large friend,” Deucalion said in good humour.  
  
“Definitely big,” she shot back with a salacious smile. Even if Deucalion was blind, there was no missing her meaning.  
  
Allison actually flushed this time. The Slayer couldn't seriously be talking about Clark’s anatomy in the middle of a life or death situation.  
  
Deucalion chuckled before adopting a more serious demeanour, “What are you doing here Slayer? The Council leaves us alone so long as we avoid unnecessary human deaths. They let us resolve our own politics.”  
  
Derek who was struggling to recall the term Slayer jerked suddenly. Apparently he recognized ‘the Council’. Allison herself already knew a fair amount thanks to her father.  
  
“Those assholes have sticks so far up their asses they can’t even walk right,” the Slayer retorted, “Naw, I'm here for a friend.”  
  
“I was under the impression he didn't want to get involved in werewolf politics. We leave humans alone and he leaves us alone,” Deucalion replied deliberately.  
  
The werewolf showed his impatience for the first time by tapping his cane against the escalator.  
  
The brunette shrugged, “He ain't here right? He never said he wouldn't ask someone else. He really doesn't like anyone dying.”  
  
“I see. Has he reconsidered our offer by any chance?” Deucalion asked curiously.  
  
The question left Allison startled once again. She had no idea Clark had even met the Alpha Pack never mind that they were interested in him.  
  
The brunette laughed, “He told me to tell you to take your offer and shove it up your furry little asses.”  
  
“I doubt he said anything so crass,” Deucalion said with a frown.  
  
“He didn't say it that way exactly,” the Slayer admitted.  
  
“So…” the werewolf gestured towards her and let his implied question hang in the air.  
  
“Faith.”  
  
Allison called it. She still struggled to imagine Clark with this woman despite having several minutes to process it. They were opposites like night and day. Maybe it was a case of opposites attract?  
  
“Well Faith, it seems like we're at an impasse,” stated Deucalion.  
  
Kali snarled, annoyed by their prolonged conversation, “Let's get this going already.”  
  
“Patience Kali,” the other alpha said soothingly, “Faith was about to say what she wanted.”  
  
“No one dead and then we’re five-by-five.”  
  
The werewolves’ responses ranged from warily receptive to carefully neutral expressions. Only Kali and Ennis showed any outrage at the suggestion.  
  
Deucalion frowned, “That won’t do. I am willing to offer a compromise, however. A gesture of goodwill. I will allow everyone to walk away if you ask him to reconsider.”  
  
Everyone looked at the werewolf in surprise.  
  
“He’ll probably say the same thing, but the only thing he said was stop anyone from dying,” Faith said with a shrug of her shoulders.  
  
Deucalion turned to Derek and his pack, “You’re free to go this time.”  
  
Allison mentally urged the pack to take the opportunity and leave.  
  
Thankfully, Scott talked some sense into Derek and the pack began to back away.  
  
“No!”  
  
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Kali who broke the peace, but Ennis. With a roar, he charged at the other pack.  
  
As Faith started to move, Deucalion appeared at her side. He clamped a firm, clawed hand on her shoulder.  
  
“I promised safe passage from me. Unfortunately, we are all alphas with wills of our own. Do not worry, I will settle the matter with Ennis later,” the werewolf said.  
  
The fact Faith was intimidated into inaction worried Allison. It would take something really scary to make someone like Faith back down.  
  
The Slayer fidgeted as Scott leapt forward to engage Ennis, but didn't leave her spot.  
  
Allison watched Scott get clawed viciously across his torso before Derek replaced him in the fight. Tensing, Allison swung up her bow, but she never got a clean shot.  
  
The two werewolves wrestled towards a large opening in the floor. In a burst of motion, Scott intervened and managed to sever the tendons in one of Ennis’ calves with a desperate lunge. Derek took the opportunity to spin and throw the other werewolf. Unfortunately, Derek was overbalanced enough for Ennis to grab onto him.  
  
To everyone’s horror, both werewolves plummeted down the hole before crashing onto the escalator far below. They lay on the steps, unmoving, like a pair of broken ragdolls.  
  
In the silence that followed, Deucalion released Faith.  
  
“Leave,” he commanded.  
  
The remaining members of Derek’s pack slinked away reluctantly. Soon only Allison, Scott and Faith remained with the Alpha pack. Allison wasn't going to leave without Scott and Scott was transfixed by Derek’s distant body.  
  
Faith understood and took charge of the situation at a glance. She walked over to Scott and knocked him unconscious with a sudden blow to the back of his head before he could protest. She threw the werewolf over her shoulder, picking up her sword after.  
  
Faith looked up and signaled for Allison to leave. The Slayer left with Scott slung over her shoulder, never looking back.  
  
Reluctantly, Allison left the mall as well.  
  
  
.  
  
  
“Incongruous,” Stiles said, helping Scott with his vocabulary practice, “The new guy joining the team is incongruous.”  
  
The bus jumped, causing Scott to wince in pain. His wound from the fight with the Alpha Pack wasn’t healing and the sudden movements of the bus weren’t helping.  
  
“I don't trust him,” the werewolf repeated for the hundredth time.  
  
“Of course you don't. Allison likes him,” Stiles replied with a roll of his eyes.  
  
“It's more than that,” Scott protested, “He smells funny.”  
  
“Allison said he checks out, remember?” his best friend pointed out.  
  
“And how does she know that? She barely knows the guy, but won't say why she trusts him. For all we know, he could be messing with her head,” said Scott.  
  
Clark had been suspicious from the very beginning and nothing Scott saw changed his mind. Stiles needed to see that.  
  
“He did show up the same time the animals went bananas,” Stiles admitted reluctantly.  
  
“Exactly,” Scott agreed.  
  
“I just don't see him as our serial killing dark druid,” Stiles countered.  
  
Scott frowned in consideration. Clark did really give off a reserved and altruistic vibe. He watched some landscape pass by through the window. Unfortunately the fascinating dirt didn't provide any new insights.  
  
“I can't see it either,” he conceded. He continued, “We’ve been wrong before though.”  
  
“We probably need to keep an eye on him just in case,” Stiles offered.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Scott stared at the newcomer near the front of the bus. Clark had talked with the coach and gotten added to the cross-country team at the last minute. He performed a private tryout for Mr. Finstock and the next thing anyone knew, he was on the trip with the rest of the team.  
  
“Now that you mention it, him joining the team right before your fight with the Alpha Pack is really suspicious,” Stiles added thoughtfully.  
  
“Too many coincidences,” Scott agreed, “We’ll just keep our suspicions from Allison until we have proof.”  
  
“Tell me about the hot leather chick again,” Stiles leaned forward excitedly as he changed the subject.  
  
Scott sighed. Of course that's what Stiles focused on even though Derek was dead. Scott probably murdered the alpha of his pack, but his best friend was more excited by the sexy stranger who’d interrupted their fight with the Alpha Pack.  
  
“She showed up and broke up our fight. She kicked Kali’s ass and then I killed Derek,” the werewolf recapped succinctly.  
  
His friend winced, “Dude, you attacked Ennis and he grabbed Derek. That's not your fault. Ennis pulled him into the hole, not you.”  
  
“Mhmm,” Scott made an obligatory sound in response.  
  
“More details on Xena. You already told me that stuff earlier,” demanded Stiles jokingly. He was clearly trying to distract his friend this time.  
  
“She fought better than an alpha wolf. She was faster and maybe stronger than the twins. She had some serious moves and her kung-fu was stronger than Kali’s,” Scott said with a weak smile.  
  
“Did you just make a bad joke?” his friend asked in mock surprise.  
  
“Shut up,” Scott shot back.  
  
He gently hit his friend in the shoulder. His wound protested and he let out a hiss.  
  
“Dude you're bleeding again,” Stiles observed.  
  
“I’m fine,” the Scott claimed.  
  
“It's not healing,” Stiles commented with a frown.  
  
“Maybe because I was hurt by an alpha,” The werewolf suggested.  
  
Stiles shook his head in the negative, “Boyd and Isaac are fine now. Something else is going on.”  
  
Scott noticed that Ethan, the werewolf twin actually allowed on the trip, was sitting with his head cocked.  
  
“He’s listening in,” Scott motioned towards the alpha.  
  
“There’s not much we can do,” Stiles said with a shrug, “It’s not like he's going to do anything with Danny there.”  
  
“Yeah, we can't do anything with everyone here,” the werewolf agreed, “We need a better time or place.”  
  
“Hopefully Boyd and Isaac feel the same way,” said Stiles.  
  
The bus had been slow for a while, but it came to a stop. Isaac moved to the seat beside them. He looked stir-crazy.  
  
“There’s an accident down the road,” he explained, “We might be here for a while.”  
  
Stiles sighed, “Just great.”  
  
“Not here. Calm down,” a voice hissed urgently.  
  
Scott saw that Clark moved and was sitting beside Boyd. Boyd was hunched over and the seat in front of him bore several deep scratches. _Not good_. Scott quickly excused himself and made his way over to the other werewolf’s seat.  
  
As he walked, he heard Clark and Boyd talking.  
  
“You need to calm down. There's other people here,” Clark repeated, “I know you're angry, but now is _not_ the time.”  
  
Boyd growled, “You don't even know what's going on. He needs to pay. He deserves it.”  
  
Clark seemed to struggle with his words until Scott arrived. Clark let out a breath of relief and gave Scott a thankful look.  
  
“Talk to him please,” he requested.  
  
Scott narrowed his eyes. The other teen clearly knew about the pack. Either Allison told him, which was unlikely, or there was definitely more to the teen than met the eye.  
  
As though he knew what Scott was thinking, Clark said, “Boyd first. Suspicions later.”  
  
The teen moved across the aisle so Scott could sit beside Boyd. Isaac sat in the seat behind them: he’d followed Scott at the first sign of trouble.  
  
“Think about what's going to happen if you wolf out here,” Scott said urgently, “You won't be able to go to school ever again.”  
  
“I don't care,” Boyd bit out, his teeth lengthening.  
  
“But I do,” Scott countered, “If you don't want to stop for yourself, do it for me.”  
  
Boyd snarled and tried to get out of the seat. Scott blocked him and Isaac moved into the aisle to help. Things could get ugly really fast. Physically restraining Boyd, Scott hoped for the best.  
  
“You want to get Ethan too,” Boyd said to Isaac over Scott’s shoulder.  
  
Scott felt the other beta’s hesitation, but was glad when he felt Isaac steady himself. Isaac had his back if anything happened.  
  
“You're bleeding,” Clark interrupted their stalemate.  
  
His eyes were full of worry as he examined Scott. A dark stain was slowly spreading across his shirt. Boyd reverted to his human form in shock and Isaac looked at Scott in concern.  
  
“It's not that bad,” the bleeding teen brushed off their worry.  
  
It was normal to feel lightheaded after some blood-loss.  
  
He capitalized on the other betas’ attention, “Please, give me a chance to come up with a plan. I don't want anyone else dying. No one else needs to die.”  
  
Isaac nodded firmly while Boyd lowered his eyes in submission.  
  
“Ok,” Boyd said after a few seconds.  
  
“I’ll stay here,” added Isaac.  
  
It looked like he regretted leaving Boyd alone and was resolved to stay in his seat to help keep his friend in check.  
  
Scott nodded and made his way back to Stiles. When Clark began following him down the aisle, Scott turned and gave his shadow a glare. Clark ignored it. Instead, the other teen indicated Scott’s old seat.  
  
Reluctantly, Scott moved to his shared seat with Stiles and sat down.  
  
Stiles whispered and kept his eyes on Clark, whom sat down beside them, “Everything ok?”  
  
“Yeah, Boyd’s calm for now,” Scott’s eyes never left Clark either, “What do you want?”  
  
Clark shrugged his shoulders, “I just wanted to thank you for calming down Boyd. It was good.”  
  
“How did you know he was transforming?” Stiles asked curiously. He was less open with his suspicions.  
  
“A friend asked me to keep an eye on you guys, in case anything happened,” Clark explained.  
  
“Who?” Scott demanded with narrowed eyes.  
  
“I’m good friends with Faith,” Clark supplied.  
  
Scott startled, but Stiles didn't know who Faith was. Well, he didn't know that he knew about her.  
  
“Who’s Faith?” he asked.  
  
“Hot leather chick,” Scott answered for Clark.  
  
Stiles whipped his head back to Scott. His jaw dropped in surprise. He turned back to Clark in excitement.  
  
“You know hot leather chick?” Stiles demanded.  
  
Clark looked somewhat sheepish, “I'll let her know you guys think that.”  
  
“Really? Wait, no. Will she be insulted by that? Flattered? Only tell her if she'd like it. Please don’t if she won't,” Stiles said as his mouth outran his brain.  
  
Clark laughed at his ramble, “You remind me of my cousin and don’t worry, Faith would take it well.”  
  
“Well good,” Stiles sighed in relief, “I don't need someone who can turn me into a pretzel angry at me.”  
  
“You’re funny,” Clark said in good humour. He nodded to his seat near the front of the bus.  
  
Stiles noticed with mild jealousy that Clark pulled off the slightly tousled hair with ease. He also realized he was admiring another boy's hair. Next thing he knew, he’d be thinking about the teen’s pretty green eyes. _Wait. What._  
  
“I’m going to head back to my seat,” Clark said. Looking to Scott he added, “Thanks again. I wouldn't have known what to do.”  
  
Both Stiles and Scott nodded in acknowledgment. After Clark reached his seat, Scott turned to his friend.  
  
“What happened to being suspicious?” the werewolf asked.  
  
“He knows hot leather chick and thinks I’m funny. Besides, I can be nice and keep an eye on him. He also has nice hair,” Stiles defended. Then he asked, “Wait, why are you so calm about this?”  
  
“I'm not sure, but I’m pretty sure he told us the truth,” Scott admitted, “But I still say he smells funny.”  
  
“Maybe he needs deodorant. I’m more worried about Ethan anyways. He's been checking his phone nonstop. He’s definitely up to something,” Stiles said.  
  
Scott frowned, “I don't like the sound of that.”  
  
“I’ve texted Danny to investigate, but he doesn't want to,” complained Stiles.  
  
“Well they are… kind of… together?” Scott justified. He frowned, “Even if we don't like it.”  
  
“We need to be sure though. He’s probably up to something eeeevil. I can recognize evil a mile off,” his friend responded. Even though he was being serious, he stretched out the ‘e’ comically.  
  
Stiles resumed his rapid texts to Danny hoping to pester the teen into responding. After a literal several dozen texts, Danny finally caved. Apparently Ennis was alive though in critical condition.  
  
Unfortunately Scott’s status was approaching a similar condition as the bus ride progressed. His injury was going from bad to worse and he felt his attention waning. The werewolf tried to contact Dr. Deaton, but none of his calls connected.  
  
Stiles suggested trying the girls.  
  
Lydia and Allison had been following the bus pretty much since Beacon Hills. It was both sad and endearing that, when worried about her ex, Allison’s first instinct was to stalk him. Very hunter-like. Only staying two to three cars back though, was very very sloppy.  
  
While Stiles considered himself observant, spotting their car was laughably easy.  
  
After the girls’ initial denials, they held a short council. They needed to convince Coach Finstock to stop so they would have the opportunity to do so. Unfortunately, the coach was his usual receptive self and Stiles sat back down after half a minute of attempted conversation. He caved after the dozenth blown whistle made the rest of his head ring like his ears.  
  
Stiles began hatching a convoluted plan to stop the bus which involved inducing vomiting in a sick team member, but stopped when Clark approached the coach. At first he received the same response as Stiles. Stiles winced in sympathy while Clark refused to budge. He kept calmly talking to the Coach and motioned towards their ill teammate.  
  
Coach Finstock was furious and used his whistle to interrupt the teen over a dozen times. Clark kept repeating himself with steadfast patience and calm. Stiles looked on in amazement as the other teen weaved his magic spell. Sorcery was the only thing that would have made the coach back down the way he did. Possibly dark mind magicks.  
  
Maybe Scott was right after all.  
  
Finally listening to Clark, Coach gave the teen a grudging nod. He walked to the front to talk to the bus driver. Clark went back to his seat looking quite satisfied.  
  
A few seconds later, Stiles received a text from Lydia.  
  
It read, “Clark convinced Coach to stop. C u soon.”  
  
Surprised, Stiles looked up from his phone to look at Clark. The other teen looked back at him and gave him a small nod. Stiles nodded back, confused. He had several questions. For example, when did Clark get to know Lydia? When did he get her number? Did he just text Allison instead? Also, did he use any hair product? That hair bounce though.  
  
Dismissing his internal musings, Stiles passed on the good news to Scott. They'd be pulling over soon and they could deal with his injury then. Stiles decided to keep Clark’s involvement to himself until after Scott was treated. No need for an unnecessary argument.  
  
When they finally pulled into the rest stop, Stiles helped Scott off the bus and across the parking lot. Clark followed closely behind the pair. The werewolf didn't have the energy to complain.  
  
Clark stepped forward to Scott’s side when the werewolf stumbled and Stiles struggled to support him singlehandedly.  
  
“Why are you helping us?” Stiles asked with one of Scott’s arms over his shoulder.  
  
“Allison asked me to keep an eye on you guys. She was worried,” Clark admitted taking most of Scott’s weight.  
  
“Wait, did you join the team because Allison asked you to?” Scott asked. His voice was weak.  
  
“Let's get to the washroom,” Clark’s avoidance of the question was an answer on its own.  
  
Stiles agreed, “We need to take a look at your chest.”  
  
They almost made it to the washroom before both girls met up with them.  
  
“How are you doing?” Allison asked Scott worriedly.  
  
He didn’t have the energy to fake it, “Not good.”  
  
Everyone shared a grimace. If Scott was beyond pretending he was okay, things were bad. With a great sense of urgency, they hurried him into the restroom. They cut open his soaked shirt to get at the blood-soaked bandage. The bandage was peeled off to reveal a horribly ugly wound underneath.  
  
Dark blood oozed from the large gashes and let out a putrid smell. If the odour didn't convey enough the seriousness of the injury, the black network of lines radiating outwards from the wound definitely did. Over half his torso was covered by it.  
  
“Oh my god,” Stiles said in shock.  
  
“That's really bad,” Clark said. His brows were furrowed in thought.  
  
Allison looked at Scott, “Why didn't you tell us it was this bad?”  
  
“Sorry,” the werewolf replied softly. His eyes were unfocused.  
  
The brunette turned to the others, “I've seen him heal from worse than this. It doesn't make any sense. He has werewolf healing.”  
  
She fidgeted with her hair as she paced in worry. It was a little dizzying for Stiles to watch. Or the smell coming off Scott’s wound could be responsible for his rising nausea.  
  
“What if we cauterized the wound? It could stop the bleeding,” Clark asked quietly.  
  
Stiles tried to tell if Clark was serious or not. He couldn't.  
  
“With what? Do you have a blowtorch in your pocket?” Lydia demanded incredulously, “Besides, it might stop his werewolf healing. And then there's risk of infection.”  
  
“Better than him bleeding out,” countered Clark.  
  
“Stop it guys. This isn't helping. We’re wasting time,” Allison interjected. Panic was creeping into her voice.  
  
Scott’s groan emphasized her point beautifully.  
  
“So do we call the ambulance?” Stiles asked. He was starting to freak out too.  
  
“They might not know what to do. Werewolf and supernatural wound,” Clark pointed out.  
  
“Or get here in time,” added Allison, “The highway is barely crawling.”  
  
“Then what do we do?” Stiles demanded. He was going to complete freak soon. He didn't do black, smelly, oozing blood.  
  
“It might be psychological,” Lydia offered.  
  
“What do you mean, like, psychosomatic?” Stiles asked.  
  
“Somatoformic,” the strawberry blonde corrected.  
  
Clark looked surprised, “Som—”  
  
Lydia cut him off, “A physical illness from a psychogenic cause. Yes, it's all in his head.”  
  
Clark opened his mouth to speak.  
  
“All in his head? Because of Derek. He's not letting himself heal 'cause Derek died,” Stiles concluded. It made sense in a morbid self-flagellant sort of way.  
  
Right up Scott’s alley unfortunately.  
  
“That's not how somatoformic illness presents,” Clark argued, “Somatoform disorder does not prevent an open wound from healing.”  
  
“It could stop a werewolf’s supernatural healing,” Lydia countered, “His guilt could be reducing his healing capabilities.”  
  
“Maybe,” Clark said reluctantly, “It still seems like a jump.”  
  
“It’s the best idea we’ve got,” Allison said impatiently. She looked at Lydia, “What do we do?”  
  
“We stitch him up. Maybe if he thinks he's healing, he will,” the teen suggested. She fished into her purse and pulled out her sewing kit.  
  
“It could stem the bleeding at least,” admitted Clark.  
  
The other teens shared glances for a moment. Allison hurriedly grabbed the sewing kit and pulled out a needle. Taking out her lighter, she began heating the needle. Clark watched her work with a high degree of scrutiny.  
  
Stiles was almost offended on Allison’s behalf. She obviously knew how to sterilize a needle.  
  
“He's gonna need another shirt. Where's his bag?” Allison asked, satisfied with her work.  
  
Stiles was glad for an excuse to leave before things got even more nasty, “Um, I'm gonna get it. I hate needles anyway. You’ve got this right?”  
  
“Yeah, my father taught me,” Allison replied with shaky confidence.  
  
She reached into the sewing kit for some thread, only for her hand to be intercepted by Clark’s. The larger teen sighed and held his other hand out, palm up facing upwards.  
  
“Give me the needle,” Clark said calmly.  
  
“Woah dude, no offense, but Allison knows what she's doing,” Stiles interjected for her.  
  
“Her hands are shaking, she's sweaty, and she doesn't have any practical experience. She didn't even wash her hands,” replied Clark flatly.  
  
Stiles turned to Allison and saw that Clark was kind of right. The hunter’s concern was clear. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she seemed to have some control over it as she slowed her breathing. Stiles thought the hunter was their best bet.  
  
Allison didn't seem to agree. She handed Clark the needle and thread. He offered her the briefest of smiles before examining Scott’s wound. After his short examination, Clark went to the nearest sink to wash his hands.  
  
On his way back to Scott, Stiles intervened.  
  
“Not that I don't trust you dude, but don't take this the wrong way… I don't trust you,” Stiles said.  
  
“Well that made sense,” Lydia snarked. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet.  
  
“I’ve stitched Faith up several times,” Clark said trying to convince Stiles.  
  
“Just do it.”  
  
Everyone looked down at Scott. He was still surprisingly semi-coherent.  
  
“Allison trusts you,” he mumbled.  
  
Stiles nodded reluctantly, “How long will you take? The bus could leave. Coach might just leave us behind. I should make sure it doesn't leave.”  
  
“I can help,” Lydia offered.  
  
Clark waved them off, already beginning to focus on his task.  
  
The two of them left when Clark stitched the first suture with extraordinary competence. Neither of them was eager watch the procedure. The last thing they saw was Allison crouched over Scott, talking to keep him awake.  
  
.  
  
  
“So what the hell was that?” Stiles demanded on the way to the bus.  
  
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Lydia commented with a quirked brow.  
  
“I know the new guy and Allison were getting close, but not that close. I mean, she just let him start stitching Scott. And since when does Xena need to be stitched up? Someone who can kick alpha werewolf ass doesn't need to be stitched up. Even if she did, why Clark?” Stiles ranted.  
  
The whole situation was extremely stressful and he was really just venting. His friend potentially dying just a few dozen yards away was playing havoc with his emotions.  
  
“Are you done?” Lydia asked. Her tone was far less scathing than her words.  
  
Stiles blew out a large breath of air, “Yeah I'm done.”  
  
They climbed onto the bus and Stiles began searching through Scott’s things.  
  
“Okay then. They’ve met up a few times outside of school, she trusts him, Faith probably fought things worse than werewolves, and Clark’s her ex,” Lydia listed off, addressing all of his questions and concerns.  
  
“Fine, I get it, they’re getting pretty close and there are things worse than werewolves,” Stiles conceded.  
  
He found a rumpled shirt and pulled it out of the bag.  
  
“Wait, Clark used to date hot leather chick?” he spluttered out. His eyes were wide in astonishment, “No way. You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
Lydia laughed, “Hot leather chick? And is it really that hard to believe? Have you seen him?”  
  
“That's just what me and Scott call her. And Clark’s just so… polite, while Faith sounds like a complete badass,” Stiles defended.  
  
Scott’s shirt flopped over in his hand when he used it for emphasis.  
  
“Well, apparently he’s got something going for him, because it was serious,” Lydia replied. She looked thoughtful, “I'm almost jealous of Allison.”  
  
“Why, are they actually a thing now?” Stiles asked. Scott was going to be crushed.  
  
“Maybe? I don’t know. Allison’s been very quiet about Clark. She barely tells me anything,” griped Lydia.  
  
“He could be mind-controlling her,” Stiles suggested, remembering his earlier discussion with Scott.  
  
“Clark? Really? You can't be serious,” she gave him an odd look.  
  
“Okay, not really, but did you know Allison asked him to join the team to keep an eye on us?” he asked.  
  
“Good for her. Whipping him into shape before they really get going,” Lydia said with approval.  
  
“I thought Allison didn't tell you anything,” Stiles choked out. Scott really wouldn't like that.  
  
He was pretty much desensitized to Lydia’s ‘you’re an idiot’ look.  
  
“I can read between the lines. Allison hasn't gotten that far with Clark yet. They probably haven't even kissed yet,” Lydia said voicing her opinion.  
  
“And this guy dated hot leather chick?” demanded Stiles, “How the hell did that happen?”  
  
Lydia shrugged, “No idea. And hot leather chick? You know her name Stiles.”  
  
“Clark said she wouldn't mind,” he defended again as they made their way off the bus.  
  
“Here, give this to Allison, I need to make sure the bus doesn't leave,” Stiles said at the bottom of the bus stairs.  
  
“Ok,” Lydia agreed. The reminder of Scott’s condition was sobering.  
  
She made her way back to the washroom across the parking lot. When she got close, she was surprised to see Clark standing outside the door.  
  
“What's wrong? Is everything ok?” Lydia asked worriedly.  
  
“Yeah. He healed like you said he might. I'm just giving them a little privacy,” Clark explained. He saw the shirt in her hands, “I can bring that shirt in if you want.”  
  
“That was really fast,” Lydia commented, too relieved to brag.  
  
When Clark reached for the T-shirt, the redhead pulled it back.  
  
“I’ve got it,” she said.  
  
Clark nodded and returned to looking out at the parking lot. He wasn’t even trying to listen in on Allison and Scott’s conversation. The teen just stood there with a melancholic smile on his face, doing absolutely nothing.  
  
“Aren't you the tiniest bit jealous?” Lydia asked.  
  
Clark raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer aloud. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Lydia walked into the washroom.  
  
Inside, Allison stood there hugging Scott with wet tracks running down her face. Her hair was a mess and her mascara ran a little. Scott on the other hand, looked much better. His wound was healed over and the only evidence of its former existence was the stitches he hadn't removed yet.  
  
Lydia coughed into her hand. The two sprang apart like startled rabbits. Scott’s eyes were wide while Allison’s face was flushed. They both looked at Lydia in embarrassment. She rolled her eyes for the second time and tossed the shirt at Scott.  
  
“Glad to see you're ok. Put that on,” she commanded.  
  
Scott obliged while Allison wiped the tears off her face. She took several deep breaths to regain control of her emotions.  
  
“Where's Stiles?” Scott asked when he was fully dressed.  
  
“Stalling Coach,” Lydia replied. She turned to Allison, “Your car is still empty. We need gas,”  
  
“I'm not leaving him,” the brunette protested.  
  
“Then we have to leave your car,” her friend pointed out.  
  
Allison didn’t even think, “Sounds good.”  
  
“What? That wasn't an actual suggestion… Ah, screw it,” Lydia recognized that look on her friend's face, “By the way, the boy scout’s still out there waiting.”  
  
Allison briefly looked ashamed. Scott didn’t look happy. Surprisingly, he didn’t look too unhappy either, only thoughtful.  
  
“We should get back to the bus,” he said finally.  
  
They opened the door and Clark turned to greet them. He gave them all a warm smile.  
  
“Good to see you're feeling better,” Clark said to Scott, “You really gave us a scare back there.”  
  
The werewolf looked decidedly uncomfortable, “Uh... thanks for, uh, basically saving my life.”  
  
“Don't worry about it. You’d have done the same,” Clark replied. He turned towards the bus, “Coach is probably going to kill Stiles soon if we don't get back.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Scott said awkwardly.  
  
The two teammates walked towards the bus leaving both girls just outside the washroom.  
  
“He can't be real,” Lydia said in disbelief, “He has to be special in the head or something.”  
  
Allison laughed softly, “He is definitely special.”  
  
The two rushed over to the bus when they heard shouting.  
  
Isaac aggressively pummeled Ethan, surrounded by a crowd near the bus. Coach Finstock was yelling at Isaac to stop to no avail. The beta ignored him, his rage overpowering any reason. On the other hand, Ethan remained in complete control and didn't fight back.  
  
“Isaac stop!” Scott yelled.  
  
The other werewolf turned at his command. Isaac was frozen in shock as he took in Scott’s appearance.  
  
“You’re okay.”  
  
Scott nodded, “Yeah. I'm fine.”  
  
Without another word, Isaac walked away from Ethan’s prone form. He stepped up to Scott in worry. Only the crowd’s eyes prevented Isaac from touching the other beta’s chest to reaffirm his friend’s health.  
  
Stiles and Boyd joined the pair and altogether they walked past the dispersing crowd. They held a private conference to the side the bus.  
  
Glaring around, Coach grumbled angrily about troublesome, violent teens and all their crazy hormones. He also mentioned the negative impact of violent video games before stomping back onto the bus.  
  
“Ethan!” Clark shouted suddenly.  
  
He stepped between the alpha and Isaac’s unprotected back. Ethan froze.  
  
They stared each other down until Ethan broke eye contact and spat out some blood. With a dismissive look, he walked on to the bus, making sure to give Clark a wide berth.  
  
“Thanks for that,” Isaac said to his defender awkwardly.  
  
“You're no better than he is,” Clark opined angrily.  
  
Both Boyd and Isaac bristled at his sanctimonious reply. Before they could do anything, Scott got their attention.  
  
“Come on guys, let's get on the bus. Leave it.”  
  
Reluctantly, the two followed him onto the vehicle. They both gave Clark a dirty look before stepping onto the staircase.  
  
Allison walked up to Clark and whispered something in his ear. He visibly relaxed and offered her a tired smile. They made their way onto the bus, leaving Lydia with the gobsmacked Stiles.  
  
After a moment, the strawberry blonde sighed as she walked up and swatted Stiles behind the head. He shook his head and gave her a dirty look which she countered with a deadpan. They eventually boarded the bus with Lydia immediately behind Stiles.  
  
The two were surprised to see Allison sitting at the back of the bus with Scott, rather than with Clark.  
  
Clark sat near the pair though. Far enough from the pair to give them privacy, but close enough to be far from Boyd and Isaac who sat near the middle of the bus.  
  
Stiles gave Lydia a questioning look and she shrugged her shoulders. They took the seat across from Clark.  
  
“So… that happened,” Stiles said in a way of greeting.  
  
Clark and Lydia both raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Hey don't look at me like that. Someone needed to break the ice,” he defended. He did that a lot.  
  
Lydia rolled her eyes and turned to Clark.  
  
“So _that_ doesn't bug you at all?” she pointed to the back of the bus.  
  
“Should it?” Clark asked. He shook his head, “Even if it did, it's not my place to do anything.”  
  
“I knew it!” Lydia hissed in triumph.  
  
Even Stiles knew she was being insensitive.  
  
“Lyds, not cool,” he said.  
  
“His hot ex comes to town and you can't tell me he didn't get all into that,” she countered, “I mean…”  
  
She trailed off when she saw Clark’s face. Things may not have gone the way she expected.  
  
“We’re not together for a reason,” Clark said sadly.  
  
“What’d she do? Cheat on you?” Lydia asked tentatively. Allison was being all tight-lipped about things, but Clark may be more open.  
  
“Hey, how do you know it wasn’t Clark who did something? Sorry buddy,” Stiles said in defence of the hot woman he’d never met.  
  
“Hey Stiles, have you met Clark?” the redhead asked sarcastically.  
  
“Well, uh... no I got nothing. If I had a chance with someone like her, I wouldn't do anything to mess it up either,” the rambling teen admitted.  
  
“Someone like her?” Clark asked with a blank expression on his face.  
  
Stiles scrambled to make up for his faux pas. He waved both his hand in front of him as he struggled to defend himself.  
  
“I meant like a crazy hot Xena warrior chick. I mean she seems like a really nice girl. Not that I’ve met her, uh, but from what Scott’s told me, she's a real badass,” he explained in panic.  
  
He looked terrified at Clark who’s stony expression hadn't changed. While he wasn't the biggest guy Stiles had ever seen, Clark was much bigger than Stiles.  
  
“You’re too easy,” snorted Lydia.  
  
Stiles looked at her startled. Looking back at Clark, he noticed that the other teen’s shoulders shook up and down. There was also crinkling in the corners of Clark’s eyes.  
  
“You were messing with me!” Stiles accused.  
  
Clark smiled, “Sorry, couldn't resist.”  
  
“So what happened?” Lydia asked. She was determined to get her answers.  
  
“She did something and it took me a long time to forgive her,” Clark replied cryptically.  
  
“But you’ve forgiven her right? Why aren't you back with her?” Stiles asked excitedly. He may get a chance to meet Faith in person.  
  
Lydia gave him another of her derisive looks.  
  
“It's not that simple,” Clark said simply.  
  
“But dude, she sounds fricking awesome. If you’ve forgiven her for whatever mess up she did, you should get back with her. I mean, it’s not like you're… shutting up now,” Stiles’ mini-speech started strong until he realized he was being a tool.  
  
Thankfully, Clark didn't hold it against him. Clark laughed instead, “You remind me of both my cousin and one of her best friends. You're like combination of the two. My cousin rambles all the time and is one of the smartest people I know.”  
  
Stiles preened at the implied praise and Lydia looked far less impressed.  
  
“And the best friend?” she asked knowingly.  
  
“Acts like an idiot sometimes and is a complete goofball,” Clark added humourously.  
  
Stiles’ rising ego deflated violently along with his posture. He slumped into his seat while Lydia smirked beside him.  
  
As if an afterthought, Clark added, “But he's got the most heart I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Stiles perked back up a little making Lydia groan.  
  
“You just had to give him a bone,” she complained.  
  
Clark shrugged his shoulders, “It’s all true.”  
  
“So she messed up and now you're not together?” Stiles surmised.  
  
There were some parallels with the Allison and Scott situation and Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about that.  
  
“Actually, she probably did the right thing, but it broke my trust in the process,” Clark admitted slowly.  
  
He looked out the window briefly before turning back to Lydia and Stiles.  
  
“Are you confused? Because I’m confused,” Stiles commented to Lydia.  
  
She gave yet another look. The redhead possessed a knack for conveying differing shades of disdain and derision silently. Clearly it was a complicated story that Clark didn't want to tell. While sensitive and secretive about his ex, he might be more open about Allison.  
  
“So you’ve been spending more time with Allison…” she began.  
  
Honey dripped so thickly from her words Stiles was surprised he wasn’t covered in sticky material.  
  
“Uh, I guess,” Clark squirmed in his seat.  
  
The last few minutes were the most awkward Stiles ever saw Clark. How the hell did he and Scott ever consider Clark to be a potential big bad? That hair couldn't possibly belong to the side of evil.  
  
“I can't help but notice how close the two of you’ve been getting,” Lydia said suggestively.  
  
When Clark shifted awkwardly, neither Stiles nor Lydia missed his faint blush.  
  
“She's interesting,” he admitted after a brief pause.  
  
Lydia’s face was triumphant and Stiles looked like he sucked a lemon.  
  
“So you’re interested in her,” the redhead pushed.  
  
“Maybe, but we’ve agreed to take it slow and see how it goes. We might just stay friends,” Clark admitted.  
  
“Are you even really a teenager? I mean, one, you look like you're twenty-five and two, what kind of teenager agrees to take it slow with a girl that has her ex still around?” Stiles demanded.  
  
Clark shrugged his shoulders, but didn't reply.  
  
“I should've made a move on you earlier,” Lydia said wistfully.  
  
Stiles could tell her heart wasn't really into it.  
  
“You actually reminded me too much of Faith,” Clark admitted, “It made me uncomfortable.”  
  
“Oh?” Lydia asked in interest.  
  
“She can be…aggressively forward about what she wants,” Clark said reluctantly.  
  
He became reminiscent and smiled softly, “It led to some interesting situations.”  
  
The other two teens did not miss the implications of his statement. They were just surprised to hear Clark say it.  
  
“So not a complete boy scout after all,” said Lydia with a smile of her own.  
  
“I’m surprised you said anything,” Stiles said, “You don't seem like a kiss and tell kind of guy.”  
  
“That's probably Faith rubbing off on me,” Clark admitted with a very faint blush, “She wasn't really shy.”  
  
Lydia could see he was becoming embarrassed and didn't want for him to clam up. On the other hand, she wanted more potential gossip.  
  
“Give us a story,” she cajoled.  
  
“Story. Story. Story,” chanted Stiles.  
  
Lydia should have known he’d be all over that.  
  
Clark didn't seem eager to share. His discomfort was obvious as readjusted himself in his seat.  
  
“Just one,” Lydia pleaded. She pouted for extra effect.  
  
Clark sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The ruffled hair look definitely worked even better for him thought Stiles. _God damnit._  
  
“Just one.”  
  
Lydia couldn't believe that worked. He was pretty much like soft putty. No wonder Allison had been able to get Clark to watch out for Scott.  
  
“So there was a canoe,” he began.  
  
“A canoe.”  
  
Both and Lydia spoke at the same time. While Stiles seemed mildly impressed, Lydia was disappointed. Her tone definitely said so.  
  
“In a sporting goods store,” Clark added a more interesting detail.  
  
Lydia raised an eyebrow and Stiles leaned forward eagerly. That was certainly more risqué.  
  
“Suspended from the ceiling,” he finished.  
  
Lydia was impressed and Stiles was flabbergasted.  
  
“How the hell did you even get up there?” Stiles demanded.  
  
“Long story,” Clark shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly.  
  
“Hey guys, what’s up?” Allison smiled as she walked up.  
  
She gently nudged Clark over and sat beside him. Scott took the immediate seat behind Stiles and Lydia.  
  
“Uh… nothing,” Clark stammered.  
  
Lydia was amused by his sudden change of attitude.  
  
“Dude. Clark and Faith hooked up in a ceiling canoe!” Stiles exclaimed, eager to share with Scott.  
  
The werewolf looked confused, “Ceiling canoe?”  
  
“You’re an idiot Stiles,” Lydia said with a sigh.  
  
Stiles turned to defend himself, but saw both of Allison and Clark’s faces. Allison’s smile was gone and her face wore a frosty expression. While Clark was nowhere near as scary, he was still giving Stiles a very disapproving look. Everyone sat in silence for several long moments.  
  
Scott broke the silence.  
  
“What's a Slayer?” he asked Clark.  
  
Clark looked at Allison surprised, “You didn't tell them?  
  
“Not my secret to tell,” she said. There was an icy chill to her voice.  
  
“What's a Slayer and why is it important?” Stiles asked quickly.  
  
“Deucalion called Faith a Slayer,” Scott replied. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.  
  
“Wait, what? When were you going to tell me this?” Stiles demanded.  
  
“I kind of had a lot on my mind,” the werewolf pointed out.  
  
“Am I the only one who thinks Slayer sounds like a bad thing?” Lydia asked, voicing her concerns.  
  
Allison gave Clark a hard look and he knew it was up to him to explain.  
  
“A Slayer is like… a special kind of hunter,” he said.  
  
Allison snorted, “Stiles is going to research it when we get back anyways.”  
  
“Yeah,” the teen in question admitted. There was no point trying to hide it.  
  
“What do you mean by ‘special’?” Lydia hadn't missed the way he’d stressed the word.  
  
“Strong and fast enough to beat an alpha werewolf by herself,” Scott answered abruptly.  
  
Lydia opened and closed her mouth in surprise.  
  
“So she's kind of a supernatural hunter?” Stiles clarified.  
  
“Pretty much,” Clark shrugged shoulders trying to appear casual.  
  
Allison knew better, “My dad mentioned something about being chosen. He wouldn't explain it.”  
  
“Yeah! How do I become a Slayer?” Stiles asked excitedly.  
  
Lydia saw Clark’s reaction, “I don't think you want—”  
  
“You don't,” Clark cut her off. His voice was hard, “A Slayer is chosen when a previous one dies. And it's a girl. Always a girl.”  
  
“I never knew that,” Allison said softly.  
  
She put her hand on his. No one missed the tension leaving his body.  
  
Scott tried to ignore their moment, “How many Slayers are there?”  
  
Clark’s expression turned sad. Allison tried squeezing his hand in support, but the best he could manage was a weak smile. His face was back to somber almost immediately.  
  
“Please just drop it guys. Let Stiles do his research. I’ll fill in any holes then,” he begged.  
  
“What could be so bad about being some sort of supernatural badass?” Stiles demanded, still enamoured by the idea.  
  
“You mean fighting all the time before some dark unknown monster murders you?” Clark snapped back uncharacteristically dark.  
  
“Uh…” Stiles didn't know what to say.  
  
“You said girl. Not woman. Girl,” Lydia said horrified.  
  
“Did I mention short lifespans?” Clark asked humourlessly.  
  
No one said anything for a long while. Allison’s grip on Clark’s hand was too tight to be for his comfort alone. They were all struggling to find something to say.  
  
“Well that's a bummer,” Stiles summed up, “I can see why dating Faith was complicated.”  
  
Surprisingly, Clark laughed, “Definitely like Xander.”  
  
“Your cousin?” Stiles asked.  
  
“His cousin is a girl. He's talking about her idiot best friend,” Lydia snapped.  
  
She wouldn't admit it, but his humour managed to lighten her mood somewhat.  
  
Allison laughed softly and Scott made an attempt to smile. It wasn't that easy.  
  
“Is Faith here for the Alpha Pack?” the werewolf asked hopefully.  
  
“Slayers don't get involved in werewolf politics. They normally kill things that need to be killed,” Clark explained.  
  
Stiles, Scott and Lydia exchanged startled looks.  
  
“So why is Faith in Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked although he already suspected.  
  
“There have been portents and signs of a rising evil. Something or someone has been ritually sacrificing people and we’re pretty sure it's a--”  
  
“—Darach,” Clark finished along with Lydia, Stiles, and Scott.  
  
“You know about the Darach?” Stiles exclaimed.  
  
Clark looked at Allison who was looking very sheepish.  
  
“You didn't tell them that either?” Clark asked in surprise.  
  
The brunette looked briefly ashamed before jutting out her chin.  
  
“I would have told them. I just wasn't sure how to tell them without exposing your secret.” she justified.  
  
Clark rubbed his forehead, “I appreciate it, but next time, people's safety comes first, before any secrets.”  
  
Things suddenly made more sense to Scott and Stiles.  
  
“That's why you trust him,” Scott concluded.  
  
“I met with Mr. Argent and Allison pretty soon after we moved into town,” Clark admitted.  
  
He and Allison gave each other shifty looks which only Lydia noticed. While it was partially true, the strawberry blonde surmised there was more to the story. She kept it to herself.  
  
Stiles leaned forward finally able to discuss the Darach in earnest, “So evil druid thing. What do we know?”  
  
He clapped his hands and ignored the amused looks on everyone's faces.  
  
.  
  
  
“That's a cool ring.”  
  
They’d been on the road for another few hours when Clark heard Coach Finstock whispering urgently on the phone. Due the trouble on the highway, the meet was being pushed back until tomorrow.  
  
Clark prepared for a night in a random motel even before the Mr. Finstock made his calls. Clark packed a small overnight bag just in case and took the opportunity to double check he brought all the essentials. At the bottom of his bag, he also found his most recent letter from childhood friend, Chloe Sullivan.  
  
With no verbal agreement, the two kept in touch through the rare letter every few months. The letters were always fun and lighthearted, but for both sides, hinted at a darker reality. Clark read between the lines and realized Chloe was dealing with her own brand of weird. It helped that the Smallville Torch had published many articles on her ‘Wall of Weird’.  
  
Clark hoped that his friends back in Smallville stayed safe. His musing was brief and he turned to his neighbour.  
  
Allison sat awake across the aisle. Discussing the Darach had taken its toll on everyone. Combined with the stress of the day’s previous events, the peaceful lull of the highway put most of them to sleep.  
  
Clark looked down at Chloe’s most recent gift. Personally he found the faux-gold band and red crystal gaudy, but the ring held great sentimental value.  
  
“Not really, but thank you for saying so,” Clark replied with a grin.  
  
Allison returned his smile and joined him on his seat.  
  
“Can you ever take a compliment?” she teased.  
  
“Only when it's something worth being complimented over,” Clark replied.  
  
He gently played with the ring in its envelope. A small part of him never wanted to take it out.  
  
“This ring is definitely not cool,” he added with a laugh.  
  
“Then why do you even have it?” the brunette asked curiously.  
  
She turned to Clark in their seat. There wasn't really much room to maneuver and Clark felt one of her ankles cross his legs.  
  
“Chloe gave it to me,” he replied softly. He ignored her touch and instead lifted the envelope in his hands, “It’s for the graduation I never got to spend with them.”  
  
Chloe and Clark sent each other small knick-knacks along with each letter, though they were never anything of value. Which is why the blonde’s most recent gift had been unexpected. She’d gotten him a Smallville graduating class ring. It’d taken a lot of cajoling and annoying the principal on Clark’s behalf, but somehow Chloe obtained the ring for him.  
  
Touched, Clark kept the ring and letter close, but never put it on in fear of damaging it. He brought them as constant a reminder of the friendship they shared. Rereading the letter never failed to put a smile on his face.  
  
Allison tilted her head downwards, letting some hair drop in front of her face. She put her hand on his wrist and looked up at his face.  
  
“That's sweet of her. Could I take a look?” the brunette asked.  
  
Clark was having trouble deciding if all this touching was her flirting or her becoming more comfortable with him. He wasn't sure if she was aware of their closeness.  
  
He nodded dumbly flipped the envelope and dropped the graduation ring into her outstretched hand. She picked it up and examined it under the fading sunlight.  
  
“What is it?” Allison asked as she squinted, “It’s obviously not a ruby, but it doesn't look like plastic either. I can't think of any stone that's so red naturally.”  
  
Clark shrugged, “I have no idea.”  
  
“Why don't you wear it?” the brunette asked questioningly.  
  
“I don't want to lose it,” the other teen replied seriously. He cracked a grin, “Besides, have you seen it? It’d clash with all the flannel I like to wear.”  
  
“Oh no, not the flannel,” Allison rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.  
  
“Actually, the ring would be a good excuse to force a wardrobe change,” the hunter added thoughtfully.  
  
Clark recognized the mischievous look in her eye and emphatically shook his head.  
  
“I like my clothes the way they are. Thank you very much,” he said.  
  
“I’m not saying a full wardrobe change when we get back… just something beyond the primary colours,” Allison said with a winning smile.  
  
Clark didn't return her enthusiasm. The fading sunlight accentuated his frown.  
  
“I’m not going to be your dress-up Ken doll,” he stated.  
  
“Well someone has an inflated ego, comparing themselves to Ken,” Allison said teasingly.  
  
“He is just me without a t-shirt on after all,” Clark joked, “Get it? Kent without a tee?”  
  
Allison smacked his arm with a laugh, “You’re terrible. Ken would never be that bad. Without or without a t-shirt.”  
  
“How would you know? Did you even play with dolls when you were younger? Weren't you off shooting turkeys or doing backflips?” Clark teased, half-mocking.  
  
The brunette pretended to despair, “It’s true. I never had the Barbie doll experience. My childhood was incomplete.”  
  
“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” Clark replied sarcastically.  
  
“You could let me help you accessorize,” Allison said, sneakily reaching for his hand.  
  
He jerked it towards the window.  
  
“No.”  
  
Allison prettily fluttered her eyelashes at him while sneaking towards his other hand. It was kind of obvious when she reached across his body to do so.  
  
“Please?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He placed both his hands against the window to avoid Allison’s grasp. Since one hand was still holding the ring, Allison only had the other hand to work with. She quickly gave up on prying his hands off the window.  
  
She came up with a cleverer tactic.  
  
“We should take a picture of you wearing it so you can send it to Chloe with your next letter,” the brunette suggested from her position half-bent in front of Clark.  
  
Clark sighed. It was actually a decent idea and it would show Chloe how much he appreciated the gift. He lifted his hands off the window and raised them into the air by his shoulders.  
  
“Go for it,” he surrendered.  
  
Laughing, Allison took his far hand and put the ring on his middle finger. He felt a funny tingling sensation spread across his body. When it left, Allison was studying his face.  
  
“Your eyes just flashed red,” she said with a frown, “You’ve never done that at school before.”  
  
Clark looked down pointedly at her hand resting on his inner thigh and then back up to her position pretty much in his lap. He didn't bother speaking and just cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Allison flushed slightly, “I didn't realize you were so easy to rile up.”  
  
Using a cheeky grin, she attempted to mask her physical response to their closeness. To Clark’s ears, her increased pulse was impossible to miss. The fact he was staring into her eyes as she crawled off his lap let him see her pupils were dilated slightly.  
  
Leaning forward suddenly, he whispered into her ear, “Only because it's you.”  
  
Her sudden intake of breath aroused Clark and he leaned back to watch her reaction. She sat there half dazed, but her excited breathing and thumping heart told Clark she wanted more.  
  
In a traditional and cliché move, he tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She offered him a shy smile. Gently cupping the bottom of her chin, he watched her eyes close in anticipation. He leaned forward, but paused just out of contact.  
  
All his senses told him her excitement and anticipation were approaching their peak. Still, he felt the need to tease her. Less than a centimeter from her lips, he breathed out lightly against her mouth. She mewled in complaint.  
  
Clark struggled with a trivial dilemma. Which should a he go for: soft and gentle or passionate and rough? He couldn't decide, but enjoyed edging Allison while making up his mind.  
  
Their moment was interrupted by Coach Finstock blowing a whistle directly into both their ears.  
  
They both sprang apart, fighting to hide their embarrassment.  
  
“No disgusting perverted activities on the bus!” the coach screamed at them.  
  
Both had the good grace to blush. Allison quickly escaped to Lydia’s seat. The redhead was wide awake and watching them both. With a big smirk, she gave her best friend a big thumbs up. Allison smacked Lydia’s hand down before sitting beside her.  
  
Clark tried to disappear into his seat. He slunk downwards wishing to melt into the chair. Maybe if that happened, the catcalls and jeers would end. He was pretty sure Scott’s eyes were also drilling holes into the back of his head through the seat.  
  
Thinking back, Clark couldn't remember the last time he’d been so public with his affections. Probably with Faith doing something crazy. It had been a while and the near kiss lit a fire that Clark didn't realise he’d been missing. He was suddenly excited by the idea that they would be spending the night at a motel.  
  
Clark felt his confidence rise. He’d find an opportunity to get Allison alone and continue where they left off.  
  
He didn't notice when his ring glowed an ominous red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faith has finally arrived and will be in each of the next few chapters, but I cannot promise in what capacity. I know red kryptonite can be a cheap plot device, but I really think it fits well with what happens next in Teen Wolf continuity. Please R+R!

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've watched Teen Wolf and I apologize if anyone reads OOC. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
